purity and innocence
let me hold your heart like a flower
darkened windows
These are the first and penultimate photos I took with my D700 when visiting Margate with friends in September 2016 (in reverse order).
A building near Dreamland that I imagine is long gone almost eight years later.
Abandoned and/or derelict buildings almost always catch my eye. They're so photogenic.
memorial to heroes of the marine engine room
I let the team down.
This monument and some flowers attached to a railing near the Isle of Man ferry terminal were the closest I came to photographing a grave while visiting Liverpool last week.
Nostalgia was heavily represented: tributes in various forms to The Beatles, Billy Fury and others. And my memories of Pier Head swirling around my head.
But my time in the city was too short to allow time to seek out a cemetery.
There may have been graves in the Our Lady and St Nicholas Church Garden, but I only paused briefly to capture the church before moving on.
And even when I photographed this monument, I had forgotten seeing it on the map.
Google Maps records it as the Titanic Memorial. Wikipedia tells me that was the original intent of the monument. However, it took on a broader recognition of the heroes of the marine engine room after World War I.
From Wikipedia: The memorial was intended originally to commemorate all 32 engineers who died in the sinking of Titanic on 15 April 1912. Liverpool was the Titanic port of registry, as well as the home of the ship's owner, White Star Line. Construction was funded by international public subscription.
Spaces were left on the monument to record the names of other engineers. However, due to the heavy loss of life throughout World War I, its dedication was broadened to include all maritime engine room fatalities incurred during the performance of duty. Shrapnel damage from bombs that fell during the Second World War can be clearly seen on the monument.
The shrapnel damage mentioned is apparent in the photo I took. However, I was so conscious of time (and the weight of my luggage on my shoulders) that I didn't stop to inspect the monument more closely and take more photos. I only looked up this information after editing. I realised I should have spent more time capturing it.
allium giganteum
Some allium giganteum, or giant onions, I photographed in Helmingham Hall's gardens in June 2017, the last time my parents visited the UK.
Not the edible kind of onions. But the bees like them, and they're pretty.
radio city 96.7
I visited Liverpool from Sunday to Tuesday to support an event for my day job on Sunday and Monday.
I took advantage of my day off in lieu earned through that to stay an extra day in the city to see more of it.
The one time I visited the city for an extended period was on New Year's Eve 1999 for Cream 2000.
However, my time there during that visit was predominantly spent in a tent designed to accommodate 26,000 ravers, where the focus was music, dancing and welcoming in the new millennium, not the city itself.
I wrote a short piece about that visit on my Instagram earlier in the week when I posted a photo of Pier Head I took with my phone camera on Tuesday during my two-ish hour photo walk.
I snuck a short photowalk in on Sunday evening en route to get supplies from a supermarket. But, both that walk and the one on Tuesday predominantly focused on the waterfront area, with my walk on Tuesday extending into Matthew Street (where The Cavern Club is) and up to Lime Street, from where I caught the train back to London.
Unfortunately, due to the weight of my rucksack, I didn't manage to revisit places I'd passed that caught my eye en route to my accommodation on Sunday with my D700.
I could have left my bag behind reception in my accommodation after checkout and returned for it. But the hotel was about a 23-minute walk from the station, so it would have involved me walking there and back to retrieve it on top of my photo walk when my intended route took me close to the station anyway.
Liverpool is, understandably, littered with tributes to the Fab Four, The Beatles. And, while I have some photos from my visit that relate to them that I'm pleased with and will share in future, I wanted to avoid the Liverpool cliches for my first post of one of my D700 photos from the city.
So, instead, here's a music-related photograph of St Johns Beacon, the former revolving restaurant that became the home of Radio City 96.7 in July 2000.
Radio City's stations rebranded to Hits Radio on my birthday this year. Unfortunately, they've announced they'll rebrand the tower with their new logo, which I don't think will work as well on a structure of that era, so I'm glad I captured it when I did.
I hope to arrange to sit Sir Peter and his peacock friends in Delamere again for a longer stretch. If I can, I'll take advantage of the proximity to pop over to Liverpool again for a day or two or three to explore more of the city with my camera and to visit Tate Liverpool, the Open Eye Gallery, the various museums along the waterfront and more.
past his bedtime
One of the first graves I came across in the Glasgow Necropolis was that of poet William Miller, who "appears to have popularised a pre-existing nursery rhyme, [Wee Willie Winkie,] adding additional verses to make up a five stanza poem" and publishing the same in 1841.
I didn't know there was a monument to him there, and to be honest, I couldn't have named him, though I grew up learning at least the poem's first stanza. The monument stood out because of the detailed profile of him.
He died destitute, and his remains are interred in an unmarked grave in Tollcross Cemetery.
Though I've read enough Irvine Welsh novels to understand a reasonable amount, I don't know enough Scots to understand Miller's original without the paraphrased version in English alongside it.
Despite that, I love reading it, and I share the complete poem below, courtesy of Wikipedia:
Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toon,
Up stairs an' doon stairs in his nicht-gown,
Tirlin' at the window, crying at the lock,
"Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?"
"Hey, Willie Winkie, are ye comin' ben?
The cat's singin grey thrums to the sleepin hen,
The dog's speldert on the floor and disna gie a cheep,
But here's a waukrife laddie, that wunna fa' asleep."
Onything but sleep, you rogue, glow'ring like the moon,
Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon,
Rumblin', tumblin' roon about, crawin' like a cock,
Skirlin like a kenna-what, waukenin' sleepin' fock.
"Hey Willie Winkie, the wean's in a creel,
Wamblin' aff a bodie's knee like a verra eel,
Ruggin' at the cat's lug and raveling a' her thrums-
Hey Willie Winkie – see there he comes."
Wearit is the mither that has a stoorie wean,
A wee, stumpie, stousie, that canna rin his lane,
That has a battle aye wi' sleep afore he'll close an e'e-
But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew to me.
camellia japonica
i fall in love too easily
To celebrate my birthday, I thought I'd look through my archives of unedited self-portraits to find something from ten years ago that I may like to edit and share here and on social media.
In doing so, I found quite a number from a shoot I did in my bedroom in June 2014 that caught my eye after all this time.
I had previously edited a handful of photographs from the shoot, but ten years later, I'm drawn to other images.
As I don't share NSFW content at my lowest tier and can't share NSFW images on most social platforms, I decided to edit a photograph I could share publicly and one I could share early access here to those at 'the perfect 10' tier and above.
I also edited another NSFW image from this shoot that I'll share here in future.
It's been a while since I added work to my interior/exterior series (coming up to three years), but I feel this fits into that series.
Although I won't make this public here as I do with much of my work, I'll potentially share it on my blog and Flickr in a week. But, in the meantime, you get the first look.
I'll share the "safe for work" image with you and across social media later today.
leo/poldo ii
I captured these photographs of the equestrian statue of Leopold II in Place du Trône in Brussels during my visit to Belgium with my parents and then-partner, Kyle, in September 2014.
According to Wikipedia, Leopold II was the second King of the Belgians. Although he still holds the title of the longest-reigning Belgian monarch, by all accounts, Leopold II was a nasty piece of work.
See, in particular, his reign over the Congo Free State (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo).
I won't use the words 'founder' and 'owner', as we know there were already people there when he claimed those titles who had more right to claim ownership than he did.
I usually avoid capturing people in my photographs of monuments, architecture, street scenes, etc., but I quite like the moment I captured with these particular folks in the second image.
great orme cemetery
With all the to-ing and fro-ing between my trips to Llandudno, Delamere and Glasgow (and pet-sittings in between), I got ahead of myself by posting a photograph of St Peter's Church in Delamere last Sunday when I should have rounded out the week with a #SepulchralSunday entry for Llandudno first.
No harm done, though.
Here's one of my photographs of the Great Orme Cemetery Chapel. The cemetery sits just outside the churchyard walls of St Tudno's Church, down the hill from the summit.
blossoms against bricks
pause for thought
I thought I'd look through my archives of unedited self-portraits to find something from ten years ago that I may like to edit and share to celebrate my birthday.
In doing so, I found quite a number from a shoot I did in my bedroom in June 2014 that caught my eye after all this time.
I had previously edited a handful of photographs from the shoot, but ten years later, I'm drawn to other images.
As I don't share NSFW content at my lowest tier and can't share NSFW images on most social platforms, I decided to edit a photograph I could share publicly and one I could share early access to my patrons at 'the perfect 10' tier and above.
It's been a while since I added work to my interior/exterior series (coming up to three years), but I feel the image I shared on my Patreon in the wee hours of the morning, i fall in love too easily, fits into that series.
Maybe this one does, too.
I edited another NSFW image from this shoot that I'll share with my patrons at 'the perfect 10' tier and above in future.
I also shared a new self-portrait from my wallflowers series, let me hold your heart like a flower, with my patrons early access this morning. That will become public in a month.
glasgow eyes
For my final* trip courtesy of Avanti West Coast (AWC), I knew that, without a doubt, I wanted to return to Scotland. Because a) I wanted to return to Scotland after 13 years and b) I intended to get as much bang for my buck as possible with my complimentary tickets (because, of course).
I've visited Edinburgh three times, off the top of my head (I'm not counting passing through on my way to Arbroath in 2011). I attended the various festivals** in August 2000 and 2001 and returned to visit friends and revisit the festivals in August 2011.
However, I hadn't previously been to Glasgow.
Well, technically, I had. Dad's journal from my folks' visit to the UK in 2001 states, "Continued north on A737 through Dalry, Beith, and Johnstone on the M8 which is elevated for most of its way through Glasgow providing a good view over the city". That was late April, 23 years ago.
At least one friend had told me I should visit the city, and they rated it above Edinburgh. Admittedly, that was back when said friend and I regularly frequented gigs and nightclubs, but I was still keen to visit Edinburgh's "ugly sister"***.
A different friend was surprised I chose Glasgow. He warned me that, when visiting, he found it was "kinda just a place to live"; not like Edinburgh, which he'd expected. And, in some ways, it is. It's far less "pretty" and touristy than Edinburgh, but it did not disappoint.
The rain was not ideal, but if you've been to Edinburgh in festival season, as I did three years (two in a row, both camping just south of the city), you know that even in the Summertime, Edinburgh has its fair share of the wet stuff too.
The Glasgow Necropolis alone was worth the 4.5 to 5-hour train journey each way (even with the 20-minute delay travelling up and the 50-minute delay returning). The inclement weather and strong gusts of wind the first day I visited drove me away before I'd finished my explorations, so I wandered the cemetery for two consecutive afternoons and covered most of its grounds.
I spent the remainder of my first full afternoon absorbing art to escape the rain. I aimed for the Gallery of Modern Art and perused their exhibitions, but they weren't my style. On the way there, I stumbled across Castle Fine Art and the works of Bob Dylan, Billy Connolly and Johnny Depp, among other artists with less celebrity.
A friend I made while completing my residency at Hospitalfield in Arbroath in April/May 2011, John Fairfield, popped over from Dundee for a chinwag, bringing the sunshine with him. I was glad to have thought to message him, as we chatted as though we last met up 13 days - not 13 years - ago.
I captured Glasgow with blue skies while waiting for him to arrive, but the clouds had drawn in again when I returned to the Necropolis. All my photographs from this trip have a blue cast due to "Winter's dull light" (despite now being Spring). I've tried to correct it in these photographs of the Merchants House, but the results are noticeably variable between the three. I hope you'll forgive me.
On my final day, knowing the rain would be even worse than on previous days, I had thought to visit Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, but I wasn't really in the right mood for it. And I felt it would be remiss not to even glimpse the River Clyde during my time in the city. So, I ventured out again with my camera and held my own with the rain until I could no longer. At which point, I popped into the oldest pub in Glasgow, The Scotia, for a cheeky pint before retiring to my accommodation.
As with Llandudno and Delamere, I took over 4GB of photographs and left inspired and pleased with my stay but aware I only scratched the city's surface.
When I booked my trip in mid-January, I had to work around pet-sitting bookings and colleagues' annual leave. I was restricted to booking tickets released by AWC before the date my vouchers expired. Consequently, I'd booked from 2-5 April, which was literally the last possible dates available and meant I hadn't booked for the weekend, as I probably would have if they'd been available.
While others may have felt the current round of train strikes highly inconvenient, they worked in my favour. ASLEF strikes affected all AWC services on Friday, 5 April, when I was due to return to London, so I transferred my booking to a similar service the next day, allowing me an additional day in the city. It did cost me an extra £128 in accommodation for the night. But I considered it money well-spent as I kept my subsistence costs down for each of my three trips and took advantage of free accommodation in exchange for sitting Peter, Mercury and Bowie while exploring Delamere.
I enjoyed my solo travel on all three occasions, and while I occasionally thought, "X would love this", I rarely wished I were travelling with others. I didn't have to stress about what my body was doing because someone else wanted to get an early start. I didn't have to spend excess money on food and drink eating out (I did order in/get room service (at no additional cost) on two occasions - once in Llandudno, once in Glasgow). And, despite my initial nerves about taking my camera out while wandering solo in Glasgow, I felt at home quite quickly on my first full day, and that concern passed.
As much as I loved my travels, I'm happy to be home again for a little while (albeit relatively briefly!) And not to have any pet-sittings until next week.
But I'll be back pet-sitting Francois on Tuesday and Thursday. I'll be in Bromley, sitting my regulars, for at least two nights late in the month. And then off up to Liverpool for work and a day of TOIL exploring that city. Then, a busy month of pet-sitting in May.
No rest for the wicked, eh?
**The Edinburgh International Film Festival took place in August 2000 and 2001. They moved it to June in 2008.
***My words, I don't know that anyone else refers to Glasgow that way. I say it fondly without malice.
death in technicolour
A couple of flowering Camellia japonica trees brighten up the churchyard of St Peter's Church in Delamere.
Life and death side by side.
pyrus communis
Flowers of the common pear tree, captured on my photo walk from Delamere to Kelsall last month.
along the sandstone trail
It's already been a week since I returned from Delamere.
I managed to edit the above photo and a couple of others for a separate post before I travelled down to sit my regulars in Bromley on Wednesday evening. I'd hoped to write this post while there, but you know how sometimes you don't realise how tired you are until you stop? That.
So, I'm writing this on my one full day at home after my return from Bromley and before I head up to Glasgow for the best part of a week.
For my second trip courtesy of Avanti West Coast (well, technically, my third, as I booked it last and it was the 'bonus' trip I would give up if I couldn't afford the accommodation or my leave request was refused, but chronologically, it was the second), I opted to return to Manchester.
I figured that, as I'd visited the city quite a few times already, I wouldn't lose anything if I had to give it up, and it was a sufficient distance to justify the enjoyment of a first-class seat.
I looked at Airbnb options in and around the city but couldn't find any that stood out. I had decided I would, most likely, stay in a hotel at Media City. But I would also keep an eye out for pet sittings in and around Manchester in case something suitable popped up to avoid me having to pay for accommodation.
I booked my train tickets and annual leave in mid-January, and then in late February, a couple of possible sittings came up through Trusted Housesitters and I applied for both.
To my joy and surprise, I received a positive reply to one of the applications the morning after I applied, with the invitation to a virtual meet and greet in early March. And I received an invitation to sit from the other, mere hours after the first pet parent responded.
While I would happily have spent a long weekend entertaining and being entertained by a corgi called Winston in Manchester itself, I held out for the virtual meet and greet with the owner of a cat, Peter, and (wait for it...) two peacocks, Bowie and Mercury, in a cottage near the village of Delamere in Cheshire, about an hour and ten minutes on the train from Manchester.
I was apprehensive about the prospect of sitting peacocks, but the location, the cottage and the opportunity to experience such things, were too good for me not to apply and find out more.
Long story short: my hour-and-a-half phone call with the pets' parent reassured me I wasn't taking on something I couldn't handle, and I was pleased to be offered the sit.
Peter the cat is a dentist, so I can't show you his face.
Or rather, for privacy reasons, I can't share photos of the pets I sat or the home I stayed in. But I will share plenty of photos from my time exploring a stretch of the Sandstone Trail, the nearby Delamere Forest, the walk up the Old Pale hill, and my walk between Delamere Railway Station, Delamare, Oakmere and Kelsall villages over the coming months (or years, knowing me).
The peacocks are beautiful creatures and seemed to warm to me over the few days I was there, though not enough to feed from my hand. I was less comfortable with the Angus bulls I encountered, though thankfully, none charged me. Sir Peter was an absolute sweetheart, and probably the snuggliest cat I've ever encountered.
The above photo was taken near the junction of the Sandstone Trail with the path from Delamere Railway Station.
The weather was somewhat unpredictable, with strong winds and short-lived showers creeping up on me, but I managed to experience some lovely spring weather and even get a bit of colour in my face (and my freckles came out) on my last full day wandering. It was a few degrees cooler than London, at about 7-9 degrees each day, but with a coat, mittens and leg warmers, and the body heat generated by walking, it was quite pleasant, and on the last day, more like sweater weather once I was moving.
I hope to return to sit those beautiful beasties again and explore more of the local area. I decided to forego wandering the forest itself, as on the Sunday I was there, every man and his dog and child (literally) was out doing just that. And Delamere is a perfect spot to explore nearby villages and venture further afield to Chester, Liverpool and Manchester.
of gorse
friends in high places
I returned home from a week in Llandudno, Wales, on Friday.
After sitting Meg and Mog in Minera in October 2021, the Avanti West Coast (AWC) leg of my journey back to London was cancelled. I contacted them to see if I might be eligible for partial compensation, even though I had a flexible ticket to allow me to catch alternative trains from Chester to London. I arrived only half an hour later than scheduled, though I had to stand in a doorway with my suitcase on an overcrowded train from Stafford to Euston when I'd had a reserved seat on the original train.
They initially issued me two vouchers for free first-class advance single travel anywhere on the AWC network within one year of issue.
Because of my finances and life, I didn't try to book them until the last day they were valid, with fingers firmly crossed I would be able to use them. That's when I found the voucher codes didn't work.
It was an issue on their part, so AWC reissued the vouchers, and they randomly issued me a third voucher. I'm still not entirely sure the third voucher wasn't a mistake, but who am I to argue with free travel?!
Once again, finances and life meant I waited until the last minute to use the vouchers. This time, all vouchers worked the first time.
I booked tickets based on quick searches for accommodation and suitable dates for leave from work, pushing things out as far as possible. I honestly didn't know if I could afford the accommodation for each or even one of them.
Ultimately, for my first trip away, I found a suitable studio flat in a converted house a short walk from the centre of Llandudno (let's be fair: everything in Llandudno is a 'short walk' from the centre) on Airbnb.
As the flat was listed by a company, not an individual, out of curiosity, I looked for it as a direct rental. I found it only slightly cheaper via the Finest Retreats website, but I also found a one-bedroom flat in the same building on their site for the same price.
Green versus blue.
Blue is my favourite colour, and a studio flat was sufficient for my needs.
But the green flat had floral wallpaper. It would allow me to create new wallflowers self-portraits.
You can guess the decision I made.
I shared several mobile photos from my trip on my Instagram during the week. But I have copious photos I took with my Nikon D700 during the week, which I'll share early access here in due course, including the wallflowers self-portraits I took on one of my "rest days" when the weather was not so great.
While staying in Llandudno, I walked the length of Marine Drive, the road that circles Great Orme, a limestone headland jutting out into the Irish Sea just behind where I stayed.
On the first day of walking around Great Orme, I could hear sheep baa-ing above me soon after passing the toll gate. The signage told me to expect sheep and goats along the way and warned me against approaching them.
The first time I heard them, I could only just see them above me (the photograph above).
At a later point, I turned to look back to where I'd come from and saw some sheep on a ledge above the road (as shown in the other three photographs).
A couple and their small child were coming around the curve of the road behind me. I caught the father's eye and gestured to the sheep, thinking he would point them out to his child.
Instead, he responded in a blasé fashion, "Yes, they're everywhere". I mentioned I had heard them further back but could barely see them. He commented on my camera's lens as if my only interest was photographing them.
Maybe he was a local, and it was all in a day's walk for him. Perhaps he was having a trying day.
But I thought to myself (and maybe muttered under my breath) that I hope I never lose my sense of wonder like he had seemed to.
I hope I never find sheep and goats hanging out on a ledge well above my head or below the road on sheer cliffs and grassy outcrops utterly and unspeakably ordinary and uninteresting, even if I lived in a place where I saw it every day.
What a dull life that would be.