Category: Family Life

The UK Chronicles, Part IV: Alnwick to Rothbury

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The Scenic Drive: A Journey Through the Northumberland Moors

The road from Alnwick to Rothbury takes you over the Northumberland moors and through steep valleys, giving you real taste of the British countryside.  It is not only magnificent in the early morning light, but it has this way of taking your breath away at each bend in the road.

You might just have gathered by now that I was in the UK this summer, visiting my Parents in Northumberland.  You may also have gathered that I wasn’t having the best of sleeps and was thus up a little earlier than most.  You may also have gathered that I decided to go light on photography equipment this trip compared to last year, only taking my X100F with me to take photos.  You may also have gathered that this trip was not just about photography but spending some quality time with the children, especially my son, who hadn’t been to the UK for a while.  You may also have gathered that my son joined me on a couple of these photography jaunts. Right!  I think we may have set the scene.

Photography on the Go: Minimalist Gear and Techniques

We were both in the car by 6am, having breakfasted and taken our collagen in yorkshire tea to make it at least a little palatable.  This is an epic drive that I try to do at least once when I’m over.  When you see the photographs, you’ll understand why.  Like Bamburgh, I had to meter for the highlights knowing that I would be able to get back details in the shadows back home in Lightroom.  The 35mm F2.0 equivalent lens of the X100F was fine to capture enough of the scene, and if I wanted to zoom, then it would mean zooming with my feet. 

Capturing the Landscape: Heather in Bloom and Morning Light

Fortunately, there are plenty of places to stop by the side of the road on this route, which is a good job because at each turn everything changes.  The sun was coming up on our left and filling the valley with light, and the top of the hill cast a shadow that I would have to compensate for later.

The road continues with views of the heather, which was in bloom and the pink added a wonderful contrast to the warm colours of the morning reflected on the landscape.  It certainly felt a real privilege to be there and take it all in.  We passed Cragside but decided to continue on to Rothbury.

A Taste of Rothbury: Discovering the Local Flavours

We managed to find a space to park in Rothbury, and out of the corner of our eye, we saw a bakery.  An English bakery, but a proper bakery.  No pain au chocolat or croissants, but sausage rolls, meat pies, even a haggis pie.  We settled on sandwiches in proper bread cakes and millionaire’s shortbread as a sweet treat.  Next, we just had to find a bench to sit on and eat our picnic.  There’s just something about eating a sandwich in an English village in the sun.   I daren’t imagine what the winters are like!  Possibly a bit nippy…

Looking Ahead: Plans for Otterburn and Beyond

But there we sat, the two of us, munching away, deciding to go to Otterburn for more photos and possibly a rug, but that, Dear Reader, is a story for another day…

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The UK Chronicles Part III: Bamburgh

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Memories of Bamburgh: A Personal Connection

I’ve been going to Bamborourgh since I was a little boy. Fifty years later, it still affects me in a way that not many places do. Growing up, there was a painting of the castle in my mother’s bathroom, and ever since I learned photography, I’ve wanted to capture my own photo of the place. Patience, my dear boy, patience…

The last time I was there, I was with my wife and daughter. We explored the castle—a gurt big affair that overlooks the coast and the Farne Islands. This time, I was with my son. It’s all about passing on the experiences we’ve had to future generations. To be honest, this whole trip was about creating memories for the children and spending quality time with them. Ever wary of spending too much, we decided to visit just the village and the beach.

Exploring the Beach: A Walk through the Dunes

To get to the beach, you have to go through the dunes, following the paths, because wandering around the dunes willy-nilly is not the done thing—conservation of the local flora and fauna and all that. The castle towers above the beach, giving a sense of protection. By the time we got there, the beach was fairly full of people, dog walkers, and their dogs, all just enjoying the summer. A British, Northumbrian summer, but summer nonetheless.

I don’t know if you know, but I have a gammy knee and arthritis. I’ve also been taking collagen every day, and although it seems to be doing me good, it’s a bit early to see real effects. Killian was very kind, looking after me and making sure I was keeping up. He’s a good man, and it’s nice spending time with him. After walking on the beach for a while and letting me take my pictures, we found a log to sit on before heading back into the village.

A Stroll Back to the Village: Nostalgia and New Discoveries

As we headed back to the car, we came up the side of the castle and walked along the cricket ground. Dogs and their walkers were still out in force, with the owners throwing balls for the aforementioned dogs. All of a sudden, I missed Molly, our dog, and thought how much she would have loved coming with us, but she’s an old girl, and it wouldn’t have been feasible.

I thought about going up to the church to pay my respects to the local heroine, Grace Darling, who was the Lighthouse Keeper’s daughter in the 19th century. During an epic storm in 1838, a ship was wrecked on the Farne Islands, and Grace and her father went out in a rowing boat to pick up the survivors, as it was considered too rough a sea for the Seahouses lifeboat. They saved 9 out of the 62 passengers and had to shelter in the lighthouse for a further 3 days until the storm calmed down.

A Pub Lunch at The Lord Crewe: A Culinary Interlude

I didn’t manage to get that far. Killian, much like myself, has a weakness for pub lunches. And look, a pub! The Lord Crewe! One of those posh pubs that tries to hit above its station… We went straight to the bar and tried to order two pints of Guinness, while letting them know that we wanted to eat too. “Oh, in that case, just go up to the restaurant, and they’ll deal with you…” I was ready to leave the place and go somewhere else, but Killian was hungry, so we didn’t. However, we did enjoy being rude about the two barmen in French.

Killian decided on fish and chips, or “cod fillet with a beer batter”, and I went for the prawn cocktail. As you can see in the picture, even as Frenchmen, we couldn’t fault the presentation of the dishes. The taste was pretty good too! Eating a meal like that just takes you back to a place of joy and nostalgia. It takes you back to a place of calm and reflection. It takes you back to a place where everything is just the way it should be. It almost helped us forget the two barmen. Almost…

A rather delicious and impeccably presented prawn cocktail..

Continuing the Adventure: More Pints and Ice Cream

We paid and left, still joking at the barmen’s expense. We continued up the road and found the other pub. Ah well, another pint of Guinness. We never got to the church, but that was fine, as I already had the photos I wanted. The beach, the castle, and the dog walkers. We headed back towards the car and had that ice cream that we had noticed while walking up to pub number two. What a sound decision. It was very good ice cream and helped us forget the two rude barmen from the other place… Almost…

Capturing Bamburgh: A Photographer’s Reflections

Anyway, back to the car, and back to Lesbury to go and see the girls. I had the photograph I wanted. I wanted the castle, on top of its hill overlooking the beach and the dunes. The other photos were just a bonus. Yes, I went to a place for just one photo, but it was a photo I had been eager to get for some time. The next time I might just have to go at sunset to get the good light…

Photography Insights: Challenges and Techniques

Let’s conclude by talking about the photography from the day. The main technical difficulty was my camera’s metering of the scenes. I had to really expose for my highlights to compensate for the bright sky and the reflection of this light on the sand. I was actually worried about not being able to retrieve the information in the shadows. Luckily, Lightroom was a champion with photo editing and showed itself to be a top-notch app. For me, Bamburgh is all about the castle. It’s about the castle and the sea. It’s about the castle, the sea, the sand, and the dunes. If you can capture all that, then you’re well on your way to getting some pretty good photos.

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The Opening of the Film Archives – Stonehenge August 2016

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Stonehenge is something different for most people.  For some it is a historical site in Wiltshire, and despite not being part of the 7 wonders of the ancient world, still remains pretty special.  For some more “alternative” folks, it’s an ancient spiritual centre, and just happens to be on converging energy lines.  For some it’s a day out with the children.

We had come back from a cruise that had taken us around the Canary islands, Lisbon, and Galicia in Spain.  Thank you Mummy, and thank you Daddy!  I think they felt guilty about us always coming up to see them in Northumberland, and wanted us to get a different holiday experience.  Well, different it was!  But that is a totally different story, and the photos can be found in the Olympus Trip 35 article.

So our ship docked at Southampton and we still were in the holiday mood.  I remember as a small boy visiting Stonehenge, and thought it was “the” opportunity to introduce my family to the site.  

It seemed slightly smaller than I remember it.  As do most things if I’m going to be honest with you, but the majesty of the stones remained.  As did the wonder at the fact that these stones had been dragged overland from Wales, and put into place, with the joints still being “rock solid” and down to the nearest millimetre.  I work in a factory that does industrial woodworking and I know what we can do with modern tools and technology and yet here, this massive construction was put together using basic tools.

The children were just taking in the whole experience, and rather bemused at the sight of Japanese tourists being shoved around the site and taking the obligatory selfie.  They also seem quite bemused by the amount of school groups being led around.  

I preferred, as often as I do, to just take my time and take it all in and get some photos of the place.  With the 40 mm zuiko lens I was getting some lovely environmental shots that you can see below.  

My wife, however, was in tears.  Crying her heart out.  She later confided in me telling me how she just felt overcome with emotion.  Maybe those lines of energy for those alternative folks might have something in them…

The UK Chronicles Part I – Lesbury

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Introduction: A Journey to the UK

Good evening, Dear Reader.  Welcome to the UK.  I couldn’t not go to the UK without writing about it and taking the odd photo.  I wrote about the anticipation leading up to this trip in the Off to the UK article and talked about the cameras I might take with me in the Olympus Pen EE S review article.

The Road to Lesbury: A Cross-Country Adventure

The drive up from the Vendée up to Calais went surprisingly well.  As we passed through Rouen, we started seeing UK registered cars driving in the same direction.  As we drove up through the north of France, we saw more and more UK cars.  So getting used to UK driving, the closer we got.

We arrived at Calais and respected the bi-national family with our two UK passports and our two French passports, except the guys got their passports stamped and the girls were stampless.  Thank you, Brexit.

First Stop: Dover and the Journey to Lesbury

We spent the night in Dover and started the trip to Lesbury after a breakfast of champions.  I do like a full English breakfast.  We were already looking forward to stopping off for our sandwiches at Peterborough service station.  On a long trip like this, we all have our landmarks.  

The breakfast of champions, and only ever so slightly filling…

The Camera Dilemma: Choosing the Right Gear

The choice of camera was important, as I talked about in the previous articles.  I ended up just taking the X100F, praying that I would be able to get the shots I needed to record everything.

As any Internet user, I read articles and watch YouTube, and let this guide me.  I had read one article about a travel photographer, with the author talking about how he was the Dad travelling with his family and getting up before everyone else to go out to take photos.  I could always have a snooze in the afternoon.  YouTube tried to  convince me to keep things minimal, talking about how the 35mm lens was the best for travel photography on the road.  With the X100F, I have exactly what I was after.

Arriving in Lesbury: Settling In

We arrived at my parents’ house to say hello, go to the loo, and show them that we were still alive and kicking and that despite the odd moment of stress and intensity on the road, we hadn’t killed each other.  We followed my Dad in the car to the rental in the Old Vicarage in the next village of Lesbury.

The house was amazing and felt very luxurious.  My parents had prepared a starter pack with the essentials so we could survive until we did our shopping.  Yorkshire tea was in that pack, so I knew I was home.  We had our first night’s meal with my parents at their house, so I didn’t have to worry about anything.  What a great way to start our holiday.

Early Mornings and First Impressions

I’ll be honest with you.  I didn’t sleep very well and was always awake early.  When I say early, I mean early.  We’re talking about 5am wakeups.  But this was also part of the plan.  Get out early and get the good light.  

My first breakfast in the house was Yorkshire tea, muesli, and fruit.  Start eating healthily and starting the way you mean to go on.  As I looked out of the conservatory, I could see rabbits grazing on the lawn and the robot mowing the lawn.   It was going to be a good day, and I was going to wander around the village taking the first photos of the trip. 

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The Opening of the Film Archives—Jardin des Plantes August 2016

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There was a time when my daughter wasn’t a teenager.  There was a time when she quite liked her Dad, and she would accompany me everywhere.  It was good being that child’s hero.  It was a more innocent time.  It was a time when she actively tried to spend time with me.  It was a time when she didn’t see me the way I see myself…

One of her favourite places in Nantes was the Jardin des Plantes, a huge botanical garden in the middle of Nantes just across the road from the station.  I could talk about the fact of it being a haven of peace in the bustling city.  I could talk about it being an oasis of green in a sea of concrete.  I could talk using clichés ‘til the cows come home…

These photographs are not clichés, but real attempts of capturing a specific moment in time allowing me to travel back through time.  And looking at these images, I’m definitely back in time.

Let me introduce you to my daughter from 2016.  She was a 7 year old that already knew what she wanted but was slightly more subtle about it.  She would suggest that we go into town.  That I could take my camera.  That we could go to such and such a place.  That we could do such and such a thing.  And all this as if it were completely natural.  And I was a very willing victim.   

This time she suggested going to the Jardin des Plantes.  She would take her camera (my old Sony bridge) and I would take my Olympus Trip 35.  I used the Olympus Trip quite a lot at that time and its ease of use, the zone focussing, and general lack of buttons to press, made it quite the fool proof piece of kit.    

As usual, I let her lead the way.  This was here outing after all, and kept a respectful distance, so I could photograph her and record her for posterity.  The Jardin des Plantes has not only plants, the clue is in the title, but also is the backdrop to the Voyage à Nantes, and certainly was that year.  

I think the images speak for themselves and I’ll let you peruse them at your leisure.  They were taken on Ilford HP5 Plus film shot at box speed.

The Opening of the Film Archives – Kate July 2016

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I am a father.  I am the father of a son, and have been for the last 25 years.  I am a father.  I am the father of a daughter, and have been for the last 14 years.  I am a father.  More traditional than modern, but definitely a doting and loving father of both children.  I am a photographer.  Both children have had multiple photos taken of them over the years.  However, the subject of bedtimes has always been contentious.  They say you have to be rigid and follow an established routine.  They say that for the good of the children you have to respect this routine to the letter.   They are obviously not parents.  They are obviously completely disconnected from reality.  They obviously have their heads buried so far up where the sun don’t shine.

As a father, I’ve learned the importance of picking your battles, especially when it comes to bedtime routines. This particular night, with my 7-year-old daughter wide awake, a fight wasn’t the answer. So, I grabbed my Praktica MTL3, loaded some HP5 pushed to 1600, and turned a potential meltdown into an improvised photoshoot. We ended up in the bathroom – because teeth brushing was still non-negotiable – but the resulting photos captured a moment of pure magic.

Let’s talk about technical details: the Praktica MTL3 is the model that I learnt my craft on.  It’s solid.  It’s fully manual, and gets the job done admirably.  The lens is an F1.8 Pentacon 50mm, with a lovely depth of field.  I pushed the HP5 to 1600 to be able to take advantage of all the available light.  

Kate posed for me and thoroughly enjoyed herself.  Teeth brushing.  Calling somebody very important on the Fisher Price telephone.  And pulling a face to tell me off.  Some things just don’t change…

Photography is not the technique or the camera, or worse still, the settings used.  It’s about capturing that “Kodak moment” albeit with Ilford HP5.  It’s about the shared memories.  It’s about the nostalgia of looking back on family life that can never be recaptured.  It might seem mundane to you, but to me it’s priceless.  And looking back at these family photos, it just reminds me how much I love both my children, and am fortunate enough to have captured these fleeting instants.

The Quiet Orchestra of Cups and Crumbs: Indulging in Tea and Cake at Home

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Nothing beats a proper cup of tea and a slice of cake at home. Forget the cafes, this is a ritual worth doing properly.

But before we lose ourselves in the indulgence, let’s ensure the foundation is perfect. Forget the sacrilege of microwaved water! A proper cup of tea deserves a touch of ceremony. Here’s the secret:

The Art of Brewing:

  1. Choose your weapon: Select your tea wisely. A robust Assam for an invigorating morning, a delicate Darjeeling for a contemplative afternoon, or a fragrant jasmine for a touch of serenity. Loose leaf offers the fullest experience, but quality tea bags work too, I’m thinking Yorkshire tea, Yorkshire Gold, or even Barry’s Gold from Ireland.
  2. Heat the water: Water is the soul of tea. Use water heated to the appropriate temperature, boiling for black tea, around 80°C for green tea (except green tea is for hippies or stressed out millenials). Using a kettle helps achieve precise temperature control.
  3. Warm your vessel: Preheat your mug or teapot with hot water to prevent a temperature drop when the tea arrives.
  4. The infusion dance: Measure your tea, a teaspoon per cup. Add the tea leaves to the warmed pot, then pour the hot water gently over them. When using a tea pot, the rule is one spoon of tea for the pot and one spoon of tea per person.
  5. Let it steep: Respect the steeping time! Each tea has its preference, 3-5 minutes for black tea, 2-3 minutes for green tea (for hippies and stressed out millenials). Be patient, this is where the flavour magic happens.
  6. Strain and savour: Once steeped, strain the tea and discard the leaves (unless using a teabag). Now, breathe in the aroma, hold the warm cup in your hands, and take that first sip. Let the flavours bloom on your tongue. I always add milk, which takes off the tannin edge of strong tea.

The Perfect Pairing:

Now, to the cake! Choose a companion that complements your tea’s character. A rich chocolate brownie pairs well with robust teas, while a light, citrusy slice enhances the delicate notes of Darjeeling. Experiment and find the perfect harmony.

That’s really all there is to it, good tea, a decent slice of cake, and twenty minutes where nobody needs anything from you.

A nice cup of tea made with love? It’s a hug in a mug!

Happy Not Dead Day 2024

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As the years go by, birthdays become less about childish excitement and more about a blend of nostalgia, forced fun, and a dash of introspection. My recent birthday weekend was a good example, taking me from childhood memories to the present day, all while grappling with my inner aversion to “my” birthday celebrations.

I’m still not good with birthdays. After 52 of them they have turned from an exciting day with wonderful birthday parties organised by my mother and Aunty Colette helping out, with a homemade and home decorated cake, various bottles of pop, and hula-hoop crisps. This was the 1970’s after all.

In the 1980’s this evolved into being asked what kind of cake I wanted by Matron, choice of fruit or chocolate, that would be shared amongst all the boys at school, and receiving Thornton’s toffees sent in a parcel by my grandmother, to going out to the cinema with a friend, and getting run over crossing the street, but thankfully not injured, to preparing a dinner for friends.

Everything changed when I moved to France in the 1990’s. Birthday celebrations evolved from lively parties to intimate gatherings amongst friends, where the focus shifted from just cake to the simplicity of shared meals and conversation.

The 2000s and 2010s saw a familiar rhythm to my birthday celebrations, with the occasional variation in cake flavours and dining arrangements. Then my own children came along, and now they eagerly take on the role of party planners, injecting their own energy and enthusiasm into my special day.

My most recent birthday weekend was a fair blend of forced fun and begrudging acceptance. Friday night found me in my favorite pub, sharing stories and laughter with my son, an attempt to appease his desire to celebrate. Saturday was a day of family bonding, as I took my daughter and her boyfriend into town, dropped them off, went through two rolls of film, and then enjoyed a quiet evening at home cooking with my son.

In between, I indulged in my passion for photography, capturing fleeting moments of joy amidst the forced festivities. I also sought a moment of reflection during confession, seeking a bit of solace amidst all the attention. The night ended with a hearty meal prepared with my son, a small act of rebellion against the excessive birthday fanfare.

Sunday dawned early, as I set off to Saint Nazaire for an early 6am start and a performance at the Folles Journées, a celebration of classical music. The day concluded with a heartfelt moment at mass, surrounded by the love of my family.

As Monday morning approached, I carried a mix of emotions – the warmth of cherished memories, the exhaustion of forced celebrations, and a growing appreciation for the love and attention from my children. I was ready to face the working week, armed with the knowledge that birthdays, despite their uncomfortable nature, could be occasions for reflection, connection, and a touch of forced fun.

Do I feel older and wiser? Definitely the former, and to some small extent, the latter. Children, and especially older children, have this uncanny way of reminding you that you are evolving, despite loving every bit of you. It’s a humbling experience, and at the same time a display of love. I am veritably lucky to have them.

As I write this, a part of me still cringes at the thought of birthdays, but another part cherishes the memories they create and the love they represent. So while I may never fully embrace the birthday craze, I’ll continue to participate, albeit with a touch of begrudging acceptance and a sprinkle of nostalgic fondness.

Happy “Not Dead Yet” day to me! Still there to annoy the shit out of you, be really foul mouthed, and be completely inappropriate with everyone…
But I do love you all! Some of you I even like!

My Facebook

Happy New Year

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It would appear to be that time of year when everyone greets each other with the quasi obligatory Bonne Année. Usually followed by some generic wish such as Santé, Bonheur, and even Prospérité. Some have even dared to reduce it too Bonne et Heureuse… But let’s not talk about them.

A Message of Hope and Peace

I wish you a very Happy New Year. I wish you what you need to get through 2024, and what you need to affront the difficulties that you may face. But most of all, I wish you Peace. I wish you the peace that is said when Jesus said Peace be with you, or Shalom, or As-salamu alaykum. That inner Peace that we receive from our creator. This peace will bring you much more joy than mere health, happiness, and success. I think it goes much further than this “worldly” greeting.

Finding Peace in Solitude and Family

Over the Christmas period I have been on holiday, and have managed to find some of this more deeper notion of peace. I greatly appreciate my colleagues, but it was lovely just being with my family. And like with the Covid lockdowns, it gave me space, and rest, but most importantly, it gave me time. Time to be with my wife and children. Time to just be in their presence and feel the joy that they give out.

The Joy of Ironing and Shoe Shining

It also gave me time to complete my ironing and get that pile “done”. There were things that had been waiting so patiently. Even my cotton handkerchiefs which are a joy to iron. Humanity seems to fall into two groups, no, not male and female, but those who iron and those who don’t. I am in the former and my wife is in the latter.
I met my wife back in 1992 and I used to wear green for a living. That poor girl once tried ironing my uniform, and I was stupid, foolish, a bit rash, a complete eejit, and declared don’t touch things that you know nothing about.
I had been taught to iron firstly by my mother and became adept at ironing cotton hankies. We all have to start somewhere. My training continued with those gentlemen who wear green for a living and therefore have to be immaculately dressed at every hour of the day or night. They would explain how to iron everything from A to Z and then we would do the same. We were then expected to execute the same task to the same high standard. I still have nightmares about tramlines. If you know, you know. And if you don’t know, then that’s one less traumatic event to have to share with your therapist.
Needless to say, my Dear wife has not ironed since 1992, and that task has fallen to me. I learnt my lesson and now keep my mouth shut.
I also learnt how to shine shoes, taught by those same men in green. So I took the time to go through every single pair in the house, shining them and making them like new and being complimented by my wife who had the impression of having new shoes. Some could be repaired but the repair costs would have been more than the shoes were worth. Those loved shoes are now in a better place.

A Rejuvenating Holiday with Loved Ones

Time, time, and more time. You wondrous thing. The kitchen needed attention, and is now looking loved as well as lived in. My children cooked the Christmas Eve meal for us and they did themselves proud. I said that I was available if needed and they only asked me to do a tartare sauce. So I did.

Grateful for Family and Faith

Time, time again. On Christmas Day I always put my foot down and insist they come to church with me. So, they were spared Midnight mass, Dawn Mass, and even morning mass, but they were with me for the evening mass. I’ve talked about this before, but again, this is so important to me and it always feels wonderful.
Happy New Year Dear Reader, I wish you Peace for 2024, and may your God bless you.

A Whirlwind of Joy: A Day of Celebrations

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Sundays usually find me in the city of Nantes, where I prefer attending an evening Mass. You get a different crowd at the evening mass, and it feels more exclusive. This particular church stands out for its reverent atmosphere, the cherished celebrant, and the more traditional Mass it offers. It’s not just about tradition; it’s the sense of reverence it brings, allowing for leisurely Sunday mornings. But yesterday was different, and I found myself up at the somewhat ungodly hour to go to mass at 9:30 AM.

Why the early rise, you might wonder? I had a date with destiny at 1:00 PM, helping friends celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary.

If you’ve read my recent article about bidding farewell to my beloved X100F, you’ll recall the camera’s untimely breakdown. Fate, it seemed, had other plans for me. The ISO dial had broken down, rendering me unable to control ISO settings. It was a frustrating predicament for any photographer.

In an attempt to assess the camera’s condition, I had left it sitting in my glove box for over a month, thinking I might need to send it for repairs. But yesterday, as I turned it on, I was amazed and baffled to see it working again as if nothing had happened. It was a photographic miracle, one that put a smile on my face.

With my trusted camera miraculously resurrected, I set off for my friends’ home, ready to revel in their love story and join the festivities. It was a heartwarming celebration, marking three glorious decades of their union. But there was more to this gathering than just an anniversary.

My friends had recently embarked on a journey to adopt their second child, a precious soul from China. They were soon to depart for China, eager to bring their new daughter home. The air was filled with palpable excitement, the anticipation of a new chapter in their lives.

As I arrived at the party, I was greeted not only by the radiant couple but also by familiar faces from my past. Friends who had once been my teachers and companions in the orchestra I had been part of until the previous year had gathered. It was a reunion of kindred spirits, a chance to catch up on life’s many twists and turns.

The day took an unexpected turn when my wife joined the festivities later in the after. She had been having a meal with the people she had learned to drive a school bus with, so she was going to be late. Little did I know that the surprise and icing on the proverbial cake were yet to come.

A Serbian orchestra arrived, instruments playing and walked playing up to the rest of us. The moment they began to play, the air was filled with a symphony of pure magic. The musicians entertained us with their musical virtuosity, their music becoming the heartbeat of the celebration.

Under the summer sun and the backdrop of a joyful celebration, the strains of Balkan music filled the air. It was as if the very essence of celebration had taken musical form. The infectious rhythms swept us off our feet, and we danced with abandon, reveling in the sheer euphoria of the moment. Laughter, love, and music merged into an unforgettable medley, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

As I reflect on that day, I can’t help but marvel at how life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it. What began as a simple morning Mass and a camera conundrum unfolded into a day of pure joy and connection. It was a reminder that sometimes, the best moments in life are the ones we don’t plan for—the unexpected gifts that leave our hearts brimming with gratitude.

And so, my summer concluded with a flourish, with the echoes of Balkan rhythms resonating in my heart. It was a day of celebrations, a day of love and friendship, and a day that reminded me of the beauty of life’s unpredictable dance. It’s safe to say that I’ll be holding onto the memories of this day for a long, long time, and perhaps reconsidering the pace of my Sunday mornings in Nantes.

Hello Summer!

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Hello Dear Reader. It’s been a funny old time lately. Something is not quite right. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It could be depression, or lowering of my mood, not too horrible, but not nice either. On the way to mass last Sunday I had a moment and cried. It could be because of work. New job, a transition from my old job that has been poorly managed, and has left me homeless in the factory. It could be because of good old-fashioned tiredness despite my super-duper sleep apnoea machine, and the holidays just being a week away. It could be lack of self-discipline; I have films to scan, and am having trouble getting the required results from my scanner, and therefore lacking motivation.

Hey, even with everything going on, I’ve managed to sneak out with my camera a couple of times and snap some awesome shots. I’ve got pictures of Nantes, the super cool Voyage à Nantes, a fun evening with friends, and even my buddy the barber doing his thing – cutting hair and beards like a pro. So, it hasn’t been all bad, you know? There are still moments of fun and excitement to be found out there!

It seems as though we are in a state of limbo. Killian and I have been doing a heroic job of holding down the fort while my wife and daughter have been away attending a wedding on our behalf and will be gone until Sunday. There have been no mishaps around the home and all the animals have been fed and watered. The dog and the two cats appear to be healthy as well!

Yes, a funny couple of weeks.  On the news, or at least the BBC website, all we hear about is Ukraine, and how climate change is sizzling all of Europe, how fires are burning all over the place, and how it’s all due to climate change and how we must continue to worship at the altar of Greta, buy new and expensive electric cars to save the planet.  The Vendée seems not have got the memo…

The photo was taken on my phone and edited in Snapseed.

As far as the photography is concerned, the photos were taken on the Canon 6D Mark II and the Fujifilm X100F.

Bastille Day 2023

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It’s of course Bastille Day here in France so you have to imagine the pace of life in a 2CV, in first gear, driving along a farm track, at not a rapid rate of knots. One could even go as far as too say, slitgly more sedate than usual, pumped up on black French coffee.

This morning was very sedate. My alarm went off as if it were normal working Friday, and the pleasure I had turning the multiple alarms of and not going to work was almost obscene.

My shower wasn’t hurried and as I did my skin care routine (thank you Horace) I felt glowing, nearly as much as the sun trying to come through the shutters.

My cup of tea this morning was a pint of Darjeeling tea. I must have still had the glow-up as I actually filled the dishwasher before being yelled at to do by that woman who said yes 25 years ago so now has to put up with me full-time. I even made us all lunch.

My wife has an aversion to prawns so guess what I prepared for lunch. But I cooked them in olive oil and deglazed with lemon juice. So off to a good start. Sauce – half mayo, half Greek yoghurt, lemon juice, sweet paprika, and with the prawns, some chopped up four hard boiled eggs, one cucumber, and one red onion. All that served up on French “pain” as opposed to baguette, with baby spinach.

It was delicious and i now have to wash my t-shirt which has sauce on it. I also did all my dishes so I dont want to hear any nagging from a particular lady.

My original plan for the day was and still is do develop some films that have been waiting around and I have no idea what is on them, and some films that I must have started over a year ago but never got around to finishing. The idea is to have a fresh start and get back into doing some analogue photography.

We’re out at a friend’s house for dinner tonight amd admire the fireworks from afar. I think the word I’m looking for is delightful!

It would appear that I can still produce half decent negatives…