The past few days have been hectic, so I had to forgo one of my instalments for the series.
But here's the next one.
The past few days have been hectic, so I had to forgo one of my instalments for the series.
But here's the next one.
I'm a little late for yesterday's offering, but sharing this image of an infant's grave (still?)born 51 years ago today felt timely.
(Fifty missed Christmases as of today's date).
I'm not seeking a resurrection to eternal life, but I'd appreciate the sure and certain hope of a break from major stresses and upheavals, thankyouverymuch.
I offer my sincerest apologies for my radio silence during November.
Ironically, I foresaw November as a month mostly at home where I could catch up on editing, share more work with you and get ahead of editing for my end-of-year wrap-up blog.
Oh, the naivety!
I did spend most of the month at home. However, I was still seeking a new flatmate, even as late as my last viewing on Saturday, 23 November.
I'm sure you know flatmate-seeking - like house or job-hunting - is a full-time job.
Combined with my full-time day job, part-time pet-sitting (although the overnight stays have a full-time feel), and attempts to keep up with my art, I've essentially been doing four full-time jobs, with my art being the most neglected.
It's not through choice. Believe me.
My art - alongside time spent with my (mostly) four-legged clients - keeps me on an even keel. Mentally, emotionally, and sometimes physically.
As some of you may know through our friendship on Facebook or outside the social spheres, I gave notice on my home of 8.5 years on 27 November.
It was a difficult decision for my heart but a no-brainer for my finances. Once I confirmed a plan B for storing my belongings and temporarily housing my being, accepting the decision was somewhat easier.
It doesn't mean I'm happy about it, or I won't miss the place I've called home for the longest of any homes I've had.
But I'm trying to look at the positives and embrace whatever the future holds for me where 'home' is concerned.
I want to find a new home in the same or a nearby postcode. But from mid-December, I'll be somewhat itinerant. (You know, more so than usual). I'll predominantly be based in south London around my scheduled sittings.
House-hunting, like flatmate-hunting, is a full-time job. I'm hopeful that putting that on hold for a while to get things back on track will free me up to focus again on my art, at least over the festive season and New Year period.
In the meantime, this is a photograph I took in St George's churchyard in September on the Isle of Portland in Dorset.
I have many photographs from that trip to share with you. Hopefully soon.
I'm slightly behind schedule but somewhat less stressed.
Only somewhat, but I'm hopeful there will be good news to share more widely in the next few days.
Fingers crossed!
My life is currently so chaotic, messy and stressful that I almost forgot it's time for season's grievings.
My current mood is something akin to this reindeer Christmas decoration on a child's grave in Pinner New Cemetery that I photographed just under a year ago.
I'm sharing this for patrons only a few hours instead of two days early to allow me to catch up.
I'll post the second image for this year later today, which will be closer to a day early.
The third will be posted tomorrow, two days early, and then I'll be back on schedule.
While I'm here and referencing the Scottish supergroup with my title for today's instalment, I highly recommend giving them a listen (if you haven't previously), specifically their second album, Son of Evil Reindeer.
A Lathyrus odoratus plant in one of my client's gardens.
While reviewing photos to edit and share with you from my wander through the Bishop's Stortford Old Cemetery while sitting Betsy and Dudley a month ago, a new writing project idea struck.
Inspired by a combination of some of the inscriptions in the cemetery, personal memories and a conversation with a friend this evening about death. Specifically, euthanasia.
The words gently edging towards my fingertips aren't all about death, let alone euthanasia.
The ideas gently swirling aren't perhaps as melancholy as what I've written above may suggest (and how can you write about death without writing about life?)
But I'm probably feeling a bit too raw and tired (emotionally and physically) to pour those thoughts out in the wee hours of this particular morning.
So, instead, here's a photo I took of a grave I found paired with an irreverent title to lighten the mood.
Unrelated (maybe): have you heard the new single from The Cure, Alone?
I've listened to it a lot since it came out, but I only just properly listened while watching the lyric video (as I went to find the link for you) and took in the words and the visuals they've chosen, and I teared up for so many reasons.
And then the comments.
I promise you, I've been taking more photos than you can poke a stick at.
However, I haven't had a chance to edit anything for weeks, so I'm sharing this photograph from the same client's garden I shared my last two from, edited about 20 days ago.
As I highlighted in a previous post, I had a weekend with my regulars from 6-10 September.
I had a delightful three-night stay (and lots of cheese with ash and flowers!) (that doesn't sound so appetising when I type it out) from 12-15 September on the Isle of Portland in Dorset with my fellow photographer and friend, Phil.
And I spent the better part of last week playing tour guide to Dad and Cheryl while they were in London.
I can't complain about any of it.
That's not to say - for reasons I won't go into here and now - that it's all been smooth sailing and that I'm not physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted. I am.
Between Dad and Cheryl's continuing travels, trying to find a new flatmate and three sittings in October, I don't think my stress levels will drop much.
Despite that, I hope to share photos that aren't flowers with you from my recent travels very soon, some other creative outputs, and maybe even catch up on some sleep.
We'll see.
I hope you're all staying well, hugging those you love and doing what you love as much as possible.
These beauties are Leucanthemum vulgare, also known as ox-eye daisy, dog daisy and marguerite.
As with many of the flowers I've been drawn to photograph, dog daisies are deemed an invasive species in many places, including my native country.
However, ox-eye daisies are widely recognised as the national flower in Denmark, and apparently, "the unopened flower buds can be marinated and used in a similar way to capers". Mmm... capers.
Cows don't fancy eating them, though. And those that do "produce milk with an undesirable flavour".
Some Lychnis coronaria or Silene coronaria, also known as rose campion, photographed in summer in one of my pet-sitting client's gardens.
According to Wikipedia, 'The Latin coronaria means "used for garlands"'.
It's been a hectic couple of months.
I've barely been home since the afternoon of Thursday, 4 July.
I pulled an all-nighter with a friend of over 24 years and a friend of fewer than 12 hours to watch the Tories finally thrown out of government after 14 years.
The following day, I went to sit my regulars in Bromley.
On the afternoon of 9 July, I went home for a night, with some back and forth and final prep for a sitting with new clients, Crikey (Cockapoo), Lottie (Staffy Shitzu cross), Dexter (tuxedo cat), Sammy (tabby cat) and Rebecca (fish) starting the following afternoon.
They were a delight, as was Julia's garden, where I photographed this crocosmia.
I managed to give myself food poisoning from eating black beans too long after opening, which wiped me out for a good nine hours or so the night before the sitting ended. I haven't had stomach cramps that bad since I was a tween, and I hope I never do again.
I had two nights at home before spending about a week and a half with my arch nemesis, Mia (tabby cat), in Crofton Park. She's mellowed somewhat with age (she's three now), but she's still very standoffish and swipey with everyone except her cat-mother.
I finally managed to ogle and photograph the exterior of houses at Segal Close and Walters Way, though I'm sorry to find that homes in Walters Way will be open this year as part of Open House London on a day I'm not in London.
I had another couple of nights at home before sitting my favourite, very good boy, Frank (Cockapoo), for about a week and a half.
Whilst sitting him, I managed to completely miss a step with my foot between the bedroom and bathroom and take two steps simultaneously with my lower left back, just above my hip, and my left shoulder.
Thankfully, applying ice and going back to bed for a couple of hours with Frank as my nursemaid, followed by a dose of ibuprofen, meant I minimised the bruising, and we could still go out for our morning walk.
The next day was less successful, as I woke with a sore neck, bruised shoulder and a dull headache and couldn't take Frank out. We did manage a sedate afternoon walk once the painkillers had taken the edge off and allowed me to move my left arm more freely.
The following day - a previously planned day of annual leave - my injuries had improved, and I could take Frank with me to meet Scott at the Railway Fields Nature Reserve by Harringay Green Lanes Overground Station as planned.
Frank was ecstatic to have a short bus journey, make a new friend, explore a new green space (albeit on a lead), take a short train journey, and spend a little time at the Great Northern Railway Tavern whilst Scott and I had a couple of pints and a long natter, some of which about the Welsh language I've been learning.
I went straight from sitting Frank to my regulars plus one.
The new addition, a hamster called Karl-Heinz (Charlie, for short), is very cute and amicable but keen on chewing at the bars of his cage. As he's nocturnal (like me), and his cage is quite close to where I sit to work and do creative things while I sit my regulars, I found this quite stressful, but his hamster-mother is pursuing avenues to make him more comfortable in his home (or rather, mansion).
I had another night at home before heading up to Bishop's Stortford, where I am now, to sit Betsy (Cockapoo) and Dudley (Maltipoo). Both are very good-natured and sweet puppers, but Dudley was a lockdown pup and has related issues, which means he's very reactive to other dogs and...well, everything.
But we've managed two weeks together and have another to go, and I love the snuggles we have, the fact they love sleep as much as I do (when I finally do go to bed), and their little quirks (just maybe with less barking ;) ).
My friend, Khanisa, also enjoyed meeting them, and we managed an enjoyable in-person catch-up on Saturday despite the persistent rain. I had a positive virtual catch-up with Dad in the wee hours yesterday morning and a good telephone catch-up with Phil yesterday evening.
This afternoon, on our last Bank Holiday before Christmas and after almost two weeks in the town, I managed to get out and about with my camera for a photo walk from where I'm sitting the pups, down along the town's edge to Castle Park (the remains of Waytemore Castle), along the Stort Navigation (the canalised section of the River Stort that runs through town), then back through town via the supermarket.
I'll share at least one photo from my walk with you in the next couple of days; all going to plan.
I head home next Tuesday. I have three nights at home before I head down to stay with my regulars.
Then, I'll have two nights at home before heading to the Isle of Portland in Dorset for a long weekend of photography with Phil. We've found a lovely Airbnb on the island to use as a base, and it promises to be a great place to explore with our cameras.
Dad and Cheryl arrive the following week, so I'll be playing tour guide with them and sightseeing around London.
I have a week of 'downtime' (or at least time without sittings or visitors) at the end of September, then three sittings in October before things quiet down a bit more in the lead-up to Christmas.
In amongst all that, I have to do a thorough clean of my flat (with my current flatmate's help), try to downsize my stuff (in progress and tougher than it seems), find a new flatmate, and try to catch up on photo editing and other creative outputs (I had hoped the bank holiday weekend would have helped with the latter, but I had to prioritise cleaning dog puke out of bedding and some other bits yesterday).
On the positive side, the first Friday I was with Frank, a neighbour offered an early 2015 Macbook Air for free to anyone who might want it and could reinstall the OS to make use of it. I saw the post immediately after shared and nabbed it for myself.
It's a little slow, can't run the latest versions of everything, can't run InDesign, and it's only a 13" model. But it can run most things to the level I need when away, and most importantly, it can connect with my primary external drive, so it's been perfect for three weeks away from home where it's completely impractical (specifically, due to expense) to bring my iMac.
Hopefully, it'll serve my purpose for six to twelve months. And I think it's demonstrated to me so far that - as long as I'm just looking for a portable machine, not a replacement for my iMac - a MacBook Air (vs a Macbook Pro) is a practical option to take away alongside my work laptop.
Thanks, as always, for sticking around through this slow period here (because of my busy period outside Patreon) x
The Old Toll House, a Grade II listed building formerly a turnpike tollhouse.
I captured this rosa canina, commonly known as dog rose, and bearing the fruit, rose hip (though not fruiting when I photographed it) on my walk past Grove Park Nature Reserve to Hither Green Cemetery earlier in the month.
There are various theories for the origins of the plant's name. As you might imagine, my favoured one (though likely not scientifically proven) is that the plant can cure the bite of a mad or rabid dog.
As with many flowers and plants, it's the county flower in one country (Hampshire, England) and an invasive weed in others (NZ and Australia).
But it is pretty.