Yes, we went back to the UK on holiday, but before that, I had a trip with the children to Lourdes, and with film cameras, and the X100F just in case. the articles are written and all I have to do now is to develop some film and scan it. Damn you procrastination. I just have to start one and the rest will follow.
There are places in the world where time feels different — where the air is thick with memory, hope, and something quieter than silence. Lourdes is one of those places. This is the story of my pilgrimage there with my son Killian — and of the moment that changed us both.
Lourdes 2025
I look back on our trip to Lourdes with great affection and know that I will be going back with Killian one day. Lourdes is one of the most significant sites when it comes to Marian apparitions — and was where the dogma of the Immaculate Conception was confirmed. Our Lady made several apparitions to Bernadette Soubirous, and the grotto remains exactly as it was, as does the spring she once dug by hand, along with the sacred alcove where Mother Mary actually appeared.
This time we didn’t manage to go to the baths, but I did attend Mass and go to confession.
Was it a pilgrimage for both of us? In some way, yes. Killian’s faith path and my own may be at different places, but we couldn’t help but feel changed.
Little did I know that while I was waiting inside to go to confession, an African nun had come up to Killian and had started talking to him.
When I was confessing my many sins, the priest guided me, taught me, and reminded me of some of the key elements of the faith — and the importance of looking after myself. He was completely right about everything. It was a moving experience — I left that confessional a new man, newly reconciled with God. I said my penance and went to find the boy.
For those of us who went to Catholic schools, we know all about the power of nuns — and you listen to them. She spoke to him not only with authority, but with profound wisdom, deep kindness, and the kind of love only an African mother can carry in her voice. He later told me how much she had marked him. When I came out of confession, she was still talking to him — and boy, was he listening.
Was it just a nun — or was it Our Lady speaking to him the way Jesus speaks through the words of the priest during Mass? I don’t know. But what I do know is that what that nun said to him had moved him more than any lecture from his father ever could. She was such a happy woman, and her laugh was infectious. She truly had the joy of serving Christ.
Lourdes is a place of hope, healing, and searching — a place where we often find God through Mary.
Killian had not only been a constant companion to me, helping me and laughing with me, but I believe God had spoken to that boy through that nun and set something in motion. Is he still fighting his demons? Yes. But there was a glimmer of hope in the darkness — one that won’t leave him untouched.
I didn’t question him further. Some moments are too sacred to dissect. And every soul walks its own path to God.
We had spontaneously gone to Mass the day Pope Leo was elected, and there was a joyful energy in the sanctuary. Habemus Papam. It was a special day.
Not because of the ceremony, or the news, or even the setting — but because, in that moment, I knew: God had not stopped speaking.
Sometimes, He speaks through a stranger. Sometimes, through a mother’s voice. And sometimes, through a son who learns to listen again.
There comes a point—usually when you’re knee-deep in editing training videos for other people—when you realise you just want to make something purely for yourself. Something small. Something simple. Something that feels like… well, home. And for me, home sometimes comes in the shape of a well-steeped cup of Barry’s Gold.
Tea Grommit is exactly that: a cinematic nod to the most sacred ritual in Irish and British culture—the making of a proper cup of tea. No fancy lattes. No herbal nonsense. Just black tea, milk, and the reverent silence that follows the first sip.
I filmed this short piece alone, using my trusty Fujifilm X-T2—proof that you don’t need the latest gear to make something meaningful. It’s edited with CapCut, but inspired by something altogether older: those black and white French films where very little happens, but everything feels like it matters. A slow pour of water. The whistle of a kettle. The way the steam curls around your hand. It’s dramatic. It’s poetic. And it’s about tea.
There’s a hint of Father Ted’s Mrs Doyle in there too, forever hovering with a tray and a smile, eyes twinkling: “Ah, go on. You’ll have a cup, go on, go on, go on…” Because behind all the humour, there’s truth. A good cup of tea is comfort. Stability. A moment of peace when the world gets noisy. It is, quite literally, a hug in a mug.
I didn’t set out to make a masterpiece. I just wanted to enjoy the process. No client brief, no corporate objectives—just light, shadow, steam, and a fine Irish brew. And I think that’s something worth celebrating: the joy of creating without pressure, and the delight of tea without ceremony.
In the end, Tea Grommit is part homage, part joke, and part sincere love letter to the small rituals that keep us sane. Maybe it’s also a reminder to pause, breathe, and put the kettle on.
So, if you’re feeling overwhelmed or uninspired, my advice is simple: step away from the deadlines, and film something just for yourself. Something warm. Something honest. Something with tea.
Because really—what else can hold a nation together, soothe heartbreak, spark conversation, and fuel late-night editing sessions better than tea?
Exactly.
Now go on. Put the kettle on. Go on, go on, go on now.
I can hear you already, Dear Reader: “Hang on—I thought this blog was about travel photography and orchestra tours in China?”
As John Cleese once said:
“And now for something completely different…”
Cue the Monty Python music—though this isn’t a cue for absurdity. No fish-slapping dances today. This is about something more dangerous. Love. And Shakespeare.
Because—let’s face it—love, actually, is all around us (thank you, Hugh Grant). We’ve sung it:
All you need is love. Love lifts us up where we belong. L is for the way you look at me…
We’ve worshipped it, doubted it, messed it up, and come crawling back to it. Love is a million things at once: cringeworthy, glorious, selfish, sacred. But the question still nags: Can love ever truly last? Or does it begin to fade the moment it’s held too tightly—like a flower picked for its beauty, already wilting in your hand?
Framing Love Through a Different Lens
Lately, I’ve been experimenting with video—combining image, voice, rhythm, and mood. So I made a simple film of me reading Sonnet 18. Just that. No music. No flair. Just words and breath.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
It’s one of Shakespeare’s most enduring sonnets—often quoted, rarely thought about beyond the first two lines. But I kept coming back to it. The idea that beauty, once seen, must fade. That time steals everything. And yet, art—poetry, photography—dares to say, maybe not.
A Thousand Words (and Then Some)
Somebody once said a picture is worth a thousand words. Even—dare I say it—words from the Bard himself. And I think photography, at its best, tries to do what Shakespeare was doing: hold something fragile in the light. Give it form, give it space to breathe. Defy time.
“So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
Photography, like poetry, tries to preserve what’s already slipping through our fingers. The moment. The light. The love.
The Beauty of Fleeting Things
Now, I’m no literary scholar, but I’ve read enough sonnets to know that Sonnet 18 isn’t just flattery. It’s an argument against impermanence. Yes, the beloved is “more lovely and more temperate.” Yes, “summer’s lease hath all too short a date.” But what makes the poem sing is Shakespeare’s refusal to let beauty fade quietly.
He doesn’t just admire. He memorialises. And in doing so, he teaches us something profound: It’s not the flower that lasts—it’s the memory of the flower.
In the North of England where I’m from, summer is short and unpredictable. Think Whitley Bay in May, where shirtless Geordies drink lager for temperature control, and the ice cream vans do brisk trade under grey skies. We know the value of warmth because we only get so much of it.
Now, here in France, the summers are longer—but just as fleeting in their own way. The light is different. Softer. Still just as hard to hold on to.
Love Over Time
This brings me to the other lens I’m always looking through: my marriage. My wife and I met over three decades ago. We’re not the same people we were in our twenties—and thank God for that. Love has changed. Grown. Softened. Been tested. And held.
What I felt for her then wasn’t what I feel now—and yet it was the seed of it. Love doesn’t stay still. That’s its curse—and its beauty. The woman I love today isn’t the girl I fell for. She’s a mother, a partner, a woman of strength and kindness. My love for her has lines and weight now. It’s been through storms.
The Voyage and the Wind
There’s a line in the sonnet:
“By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d…”
Untrimmed sails. It’s a nautical image. Love as a voyage. And not always one with calm waters.
As a Catholic, I believe in the indissolubility of marriage. That it’s not just about romance, but about helping each other get to heaven. My in-laws divorced; my own parents didn’t. I’ve seen love crack. I’ve seen it heal.
Marriage isn’t a fairy tale—it’s work. But it’s also a grace. When it’s hard, I try to fix things rather than walk away. Not always perfectly, but with intention. And, frankly, with faith.
Love Through Generations
My son has just left home—for the second time—after his first real heartbreak. It was messy, as first loves often are. But he’s learning, like we all do. Hopefully he’ll come through it wiser, maybe even gentler.
My daughter’s still a child—full of confidence and conviction. She thinks she knows what love is. I just hope I can guide her without crushing her wonder.
Love, like light, bends. It shifts over time. And sometimes, we only recognise its shape in hindsight.
Art, Memory, and the Illusion of Permanence
A photograph feels eternal. But look again a few years later, and the people in it start to look like ghosts. Hair a bit darker, clothes out of style, expressions younger than we remember.
Art doesn’t stop time—it echoes it. We take photos because we want to remember. Because we want someone—someday—to know we were here.
That’s the power of Shakespeare’s sonnet. He didn’t name the beloved. We don’t know who it was written for. But we feel the love. That’s the part that endures.
Conclusion: Remember Me
I think, deep down, we all want more than to be loved. We want to be remembered.
That’s what a sonnet does. That’s what a photograph can do. They capture light—just for a moment—and give it a place to live.
Sure, the image will fade. The print will yellow. But the feeling? That can echo for generations. It might not be eternal in years—but it can be eternal in resonance.
I have recently tried to start learning about making videos. Somebody said that if you have an eye for creating a decent image, then your eye should be OK for filmmaking. There are of course different styles of shots because we are talking about moving pictures. Shots that move, and not just static plans as we would use in photography. We have to set a scene with establishing shots. We can combine medium framed shots and close-ups to keep the narrative going and to show the wood moving through the different machines. I therefore had to understand the manufacturing process. The composition principles that I have talked about in the past are still relevant. So my mindset was, “Why not give it a try. You know about images and how to place subjects in images. Get on to YouTube and start learning about filming . This isn’t Instagram or Tiktok, so you have more time and scope to deliver your message. And if “they” can do it then there is no reason why I can’t!” Nothing left to do but get it done! Do, don’t think…
The Kit – Use what you already have
For the moment I’m using the Canon 6D Mark II with the 24-70mm F4.0 zoom lens. For the editing I’m using CapCut and am slowly getting used to it. It just goes to show that yes, yes indeed, you can teach an old dog new tricks… I can already hear you Dear Reader asking, “But why did you use that camera, and that editing software, Ian?”
The camera
I would say, firstly why not.. But I’ll set out my reasoning. I used the Canon 6D Mark II, because I have it. It has the flippy screen that allows me to see what I’m filming, and I’m only beginning, so no exterior monitors yet. I also know how to use it and like using it. Does it have 4K video, which “they” say is a must nowadays? No it doesn’t, but I’m not in the market for a new camera, so I’ll be using what I have already thank you very much. On a tripod I could do static shots, and panning shots. The idea was to have a series of shots showing the wood in motion going through the manufacturing process.
The lens
Why the 24-70mm lens? Well think back to the articles where I talk about lenses. I said that it was a workhorse and has me covered for “quite a few” situations, and it has image stabilisation. I used my tripod, but there were a couple of handheld shots. It is also a pretty fine lens in its own right. More important to invest in the good glass, than a camera body. What matters is what the client, or audience sees. They’re not doing a mental breakdown of your kit!
CapCut
And why CapCut? Again I would argue yet again, why not! Price of the software was a consideration. As was simplicity. I had tried using Adobe Express, as it is part of my subscription for Lightroom and Photoshop, but it didn’t seem to have the capacity to give me the result that I was after. It did however, introduce me to the concept of the timeline and linking up the various sequences that I had filmed. I had also seen a lot of people waxing lyrical about CapCut, and it just seemed more “accessible” to a newbie like me. There are of course more professional tools available but for the moment seem to have more than I need. I of course went back to Youtube for various tutorials to get me started.
The Brief
So here we go with the actual video. I was told to make a video that would be shown to new employees as part of their integration into the company. Showing the total process will give them a better idea of where they feature in the “bigger picture.” Something dynamic they said. Show the wood moving through the machine they said. So I tried… Then I looked back at my brief from my boss, and realised that I was way too long and had to go back to the drawing board. Ah well. The idea is to show the process of transformation from timber to a door frame that can go to the other plant for assembly.
When you’re doing personal work you have the freedom to do what you want, but work requires sticking to the plan. So stick I did! I showed my boss the first draft, and was told that maybe cut this out, change the speed of the footage, only speed things up for the machines, but leave the shots of people at normal speed. Such and such a shot adds nothing to the story so get rid of it. It felt very much like the process I have when I get back from a shoot. You have to do a first triage of everything, and only have the strict necessary to portray your message.
The creative Process
So I had my brief. I knew the kind of film I was after. Or at least I had a couple of ideas. The basic premise was to be able to follow a piece of timber from being unloaded from a truck, following the piece of timber as it is transformed into a door frame. I had in mind those films I saw as a child showing how something is made, and how we see cans of soup moving along a conveyor belt. For each sequence, I wanted a piece of wood going into a machine, going through the machine, and coming out the other end having been transformed. Starting with an establishing shot, and following more or less closely, with close-ups and medium shots to give an idea of movement…
A short extract from the full video…
Conclusion
So you have now seen the video. All this happened in a week. I went from know very little about making a video, to having a viewable result, and one that tell the story that was asked for. Am I happy with it? I’m certainly not unhappy, and it was interesting to see the thing evolve from a series of moving pictures into something that will be used in training for future employees. Would I have done things differently? Possibly. I might have used the 16-35 F4 lens too, for even wider shots. I know have a little more familiarity with my software and will be spending less time searching for the effects and tools I wish to use. It made me aware of what kit I may be lacking, like mics for sound, but here I didn’t need to record any more sound. I would have liked wheels for my tripod to have a different panel of shots. I maybe should have used my phone and the gimbal to get more variety in my shots. I could have done some time-lapse sequences. But the primordial question would be, “What does it add to my story?” and “Do I need to acquire any kit to do it?” Money talks, and if I can get what I need without spending any more then that has to be a good idea!
What did I take away
I was introduced into a new world of storytelling. I learnt about thinking in a more linear way. Not just thinking about the shot as I would in photography , but about using these shots to make a story. Maybe I already did this with my photo series, but here it became so much more relevant. This might be the main change in my outlook. I already knew about acquiring shots for stills, and doing the same for video seemed to be a natural progression.
What next?
Am I going to get further into this film making lark? By definition yes, because work wants more videos for training people on various machines, and the HR dept have noticed my work, and are getting ideas… Do I want to make videos for me? Yes. It is certainly something I want to look further into. And the more I watch on YouTube the more I am learning, and the more I believe that I can actually do this. Am I going to become a YouTuber? I honestly have no idea, but as in photography, I have to start doing something. People will usually give feedback, and comment sections on YouTube seem to be lees harsh than on Instagram or Twitter. I remember my father making home movies with a cine camera and I can now do the same thing, and edit my footage too. Learning something is never wasted, and it does the brain good to learn new things. Who knows where this can take me? I don’t, but isn’t it interesting to find out?
IJM Photography 