Sometimes you have brunch and just feel that all is well with the world. Well, that Sunday, all was definitely well with the world, or at least, well with my world, which isn’t a bad way to be on a delightful sunny February afternoon. Out in town with my camera, well-fed, and just wandering around, seeing what would turn up in front of my camera.
If I were to be honest, I know that if I go to such-and-such an area, I will get such-and-such a kind of photo, so we can’t about wandering around aimlessly, but there was a sort of randomness… Sort of.
Get ready for some technical information, which will hopefully explain the style of photos that I am presenting to you today. When converting my images to black and white, I edited as if I had a red filter on my camera and as if I were using black and white film. When using this red filter, anything that is blue comes out in a darker tone. It’s going to be easier to use an image instead of a thousand words…
Basically, anything that is a deep blue turns almost black and makes for a powerful image. Some people love it (I do), others don’t (ah well), and that’s all fine too! You get the picture!
A lot of the photos that follow will exhibit this effect as if they were case book studies. You need the sky to be a certain way or it just won’t work, but when it does, you get the kind of image that jumps out at you. That and the 16-35mm lens, you can’t really go wrong. Mind you, after that delicious brunch, not a lot could go wrong…
January, with its terrible reputation as being the shittiest month of the year, is 11 days from being over. Some will say good riddance to bad rubbish, others won’t care, and others will be happy it’s just over and done with. Does Blue Monday ring any bells, even alarm bells? The concept of Blue Monday (the third Monday in January) appeared in 2005 during a press release from British travel firm, Sky Travel during a publicity stunt. A formula described this specific Monday as being the gloomiest of the year.
How could this reputation come about? Could it be that so many seem to start this month with a hangover? Or at best, with a dry mouth, feeling slightly tired, and having a slightly delicate tummy? Is the fact of going back to work after the celebrations of Christmas, and suffering the anti-climax that is January a cause? A jolt back into a reality that we feel we no longer desire? Is it because we feel guilty about making so many resolutions to better our lives and start anew as the new year begins, and then feel dreadful when we fail after just a couple of days? Could the answer just be drinking slightly less and not giving a shit about the new year, and therefore an eventual new me?
Mind you, Dear Reader, the weather is usually not the best that one could wish for, but if it were 20°C outside with warm sunshine, then the climate change people would be up in arms. Whatever we say, we will, somehow, somewhere, annoy a climate activist. Am I a follower of Saint Greta? Not really. Am I just boorish and refuse to sort my rubbish? No, but I’m not convinced either. I have problems believing that if I don’t put an apple core in the compost bin that I will go to ecological hell for all eternity…
However, as you will see from the photos in the traditional end of the article gallery, there is light and shade and therefore sunlight, therefore sun… In the ones taken after sundown, you won’t be able to see the sun, not because of a climate crisis but because the sun tends not to shine during the night. Mind-blowing, I know.
So, after dissing January, I feel the need to defend it. Within 11 days I will have had my 51st birthday and will celebrate not being dead yet, and being the oldest that I have ever been! Wouldn’t it be ironic if I snuffed it before then? It would certainly be a shame. With my children and wife, the plan is to have a pizza, film, and beer night! Not the done thing to miss that! During childhood, I would have the first of a long line of birthdays throughout the year. Sometimes for Christmas, I would have a “big” present and be told that it was also for my birthday. I don’t blame my parents at all, and this is not part of my childhood trauma. I have a son who was born just before Christmas and find myself doing the same thing. He’s no more messed up than I am. Differently messed up, but not because of that. I have people in my family born on Christmas Day, some on Boxing Day, and someone born on the 27th of December. Ah well, it could happen to anyone, and they all seem perfectly imperfect, just like me!
La Générale refers to a French dress rehearsal before a show or concert but with no senior military officer in sight. But why am I talking about a rehearsal? Well, as some of you Dear Readers might know that for my many sins, I am a horn player and musician. Both can happen simultaneously, despite our reputation! From February 2009 until July 2022, I played the horn for the Orchestre d’Harmonie de Cholet in France. Some people had cottoned onto the fact that I dabble in this photography lark, and since they had just changed musical direction, they would like me to take some photos of the new director in front of the band. I of course said yes, and following the lessons learnt during the American Concert, I was feeling quietly confident.
The musicians were asked to attend the Générale in concert dress, all looking very smart. This would allow me to wander around the stage freely, not annoy the audience, and have complete freedom to try to take a couple of photos. What a good idea! It also meant that I had two hours to get the job done in a satisfactory manner.
I had the Canon 6D Mark II with the 85mm F1.8 Canon lens, and the trusty and also favourite, almost to the point of it being a fetish, Fuji Film X100F, with the telephoto adapter which transforms the lens into a 50mm F 2.0 lens. I could take off that adapter and have 35mm equivalent lens. To the uninitiated, you will think I have just spouted out a huge amount of gobbledy gook, but I it actually means something to me. It was out of the question that I would miss 60 photos like last time. A lesson most definitely learnt!
Sooooo… I wandered around taking photos and trying to make sure I didn’t just photograph the horn section. Nobody couldn’t accuse me of favouritism; except that I had treated some images first for friends and had posted them on Facebook. Two of those friends were, of course, in the Horn Section. Ooooops a daisy. Ah well. I did, however, tell everyone that these were merely a foretaste of things to come, and I realised I had actually been quite democratic and represented most of the musicians. Out of the 400 odd photos taken, 124 were presented to the musicians in a private Google Gallery. Not bad for two hours of shooting. You will see a small selection of those photos at the end of this article.
As a thank you, I was invited to the concert the next day. After a Barber appointment to tame my overgrown beard and a visit to the pub just to say hello to the staff and friends, I headed off to Cholet for my Rendez Vous with music listening. Keep music live etc!!
Naturally, with the change of conductor, there will be a change of musical direction. Each person had to get used to the novelty, and the new conductor has to make his mark on the orchestra, which is perfectly normal. I had heard all kinds of things and wanted to make up my own mind. The concert theme was “Heart of the Forest.” I was determined to take it all in with no preconceived ideas. Just enjoy the bloody music, you fool. So I sat down and did just that. The sound at the back of the auditorium differed completely from what I had heard the night before. As a musician, we hear the concert from where we are on the stage. The audience really hears that difference. I was blown away and just sat there enjoying watching my friends create music.
With time, the orchestra and the new musical director will get to know each other, and I look forward to seeing their next concert and seeing the outcome of this new relationship in future concerts, and it goes without saying that I wish them the very best of success for the future!
Now for the photos, and not just the horn section…
“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.” I, like most people, used to think that this was pure Shakespeare. Well, it is not; it is actually from the play “The Mourning Bride” by William Cosgrove, which was first performed in 1697. No, I cannot be having you say that you learn nothing from this blog, right?
So you get a free fact of the day. First, I don’t have breasts, but man boobs, and second, they’re not savage either! Trust me! As suggested in the title, this article is about a concert, and surprisingly the music was American, hence the name of the American Concert. Mind-blowing I know, right?
Now I can hear you saying this blog is about this man’s depression and photography, and possibly tea and cake. Give me some time and I’ll get there. My mental health is on the melancholic side due to rain, and teenagers at home, but it will get better.
My friend Hervé, who has already starred twice on my blog, is part of a Brass Quintet called Arabesque who have only been mentioned once on my blog. This lovely chap asked if I wanted to take some photos of their American Concert and I, of course, said yes, that would be great fun! They are revamping their website and wanted some photographs for it and after the success of the last shoot I did for them, they asked me to come back.
This would be the first concert I would photograph with stage lights. And when you photograph a concert, you have to get it right and not mess it up. I, of course, messed quite a few photos up, but it’s all a learning process, isn’t it? “They” said to use your fastest lenses, which is photographer lingo saying that you need the lens to have the widest opening possible to let in the most light and still have a relatively quick shutter speed. “They” seem to give out some good advice so I took my very fastest lens, an f1.2 35mm lens for my XT2 and because it has focus peaking, you can’t go wrong. That’s what “they” said. I proved “them” wrong and wasted about 60 photos. That’ll teach me to listen to “them!”
Fortunately, I had my Plan B (Canon 6D MarkII) with me, which worked a treat. What did I learn from this precarious situation? First, I was the only one who knew that I had messed up. Second, the importance of having a Plan B. Thirdly, using both cameras and thus still getting the shot, and fourthly that using a manual lens usually provides no worries during the day, but autofocus can be quite a good friend, especially for a concert. No need to be a purist. You can save that for later. What you need is to get the job done. So leave your pride at home and get some decent photos.
The entire show was splendid, and the music was first class too! If you have time to see Arabesque in concert you’ll definitely enjoy yourself, and you’ll be supporting live music and a great bunch of guys too! I would also like to thank them for the restaurant meal after the concert. What a delightful way to spend an evening!
Hepple. Even just saying it gives me a certain sensation of pleasure. Heh-pull. It just rolls of the tongue, and the pull sound at the end is tension that is let out and offers some relief. A bit like a fart, but less smelly. Amis de la poésie, bonsoir!
Now don’t get me wrong, I love Alnmouth but I like to get out into the country when I visit my parents. You drive into Alnwick, and then through the town past the TA base going up towards Rothbury and the on to Otterburn where the Army likes to play soldiers with live ammo and you are warned not to go onto the land otherwise you might go boom. Going boom is not a nice thing to do and should he avoided at all costs unless you really do want to go out with a bang.
You go past Cragside which as a family we have visited before, in the sun and the rain. It was one Summer and it was raining all bloody week and my mother said we should go out to Cragside and have fun going through the maze on the hills around the very stately home. It was a great idea, except for the fact that it had been raining like a cow taking a piss, and the whole place was waterlogged and we were all wearing crocs (other more suitable footwear from other brands do exist) and that other footwear would have been most welcome. We arrived back at my parents house soaked and a little pissed off. Oh the joys of family holidays during the British summer.
I digress. Je diverge, et parfois je dis bite!
Anyway, you go past Cragside and you will eventually end up at Hepple. I tend to go through the village and park up on the verge after the bridge. You can’t miss it, and if you do miss it the you are on the wrong road.
I have this stupid idea in my head that if I watch enough YouTube and try and learn ever more about photography from the various videos watched, and learn to leave my comfort zone and try new things, then I might discover something new and find out something that I might not even suspect possible. Yes it was one of those kinds of days… I should have known.
I was in the car with my camera and my father for this trip out. For some reason or other, fate had thrown us together and I had missed having sandwiches for lunch at parent’s house and still can’t remember how and why my father was in my car. Well, I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to spend some quality time with one of my favourite people. So we had driven off to Hepple. I promise I will get to the end of this story. Maybe not straight away, but maybe by the end of this article.
Parked up. Ready to shoot. Camera out. Lens on camera. And then I just jave to work the scene and try and get compositions and pictures together. Now one video suggested using a telephoto lens for landscape photography. I wasn’t sure about this but tried it anyway just in case. While I was out of the car taking photos my father would be quietly listening to car radio holding one of the lenses as I was doing my thing. Bless him. That man has the patience of a saint. Either that or he enjoyed seeing me doing my thing. It was sharing with him one of the ways I seem to spend a lot of time.
It’s moments like that, that will stick in my memory forever in a way that going to the kitchen to get salt for my wife will be forgotten once I arrive in the kitchen. Not that I don’t want to to get salt for my wife, I just seen to forget very quickly.
So I started of by using my wide-angle lens and the thought, why the hell not, I’ll get the 70-300mm out of the bag and see what I can do with it. A wide angled lens will give you a very wide angle of view and offer up some wonderful distortion. Hence the name wide angled lens. The originality of that name still blows my mind! A telephoto lens however will give you the impression that everything has been drawn in and the background seems to be just being the foreground. It compresses the view… However they still say telephoto lens and not compressor lens. Go figure.
In the photos from this outing I think you’ll be able to see which photos were taken with which pens and of you click on each photos you can see the type of lens used in the description.
It’s one of my happy places and one that I keep going back to. They must think it weird that every summer a French car pulls up and this fat dude gets out with a camera and starts taking photos then gets back into said French car and drives off with souvenirs in his head that will keep him going until he comes back. It was just brilliant being able to just take in the scenery and enjoy being there with my Dad. Definitely a keeper that memory. It was just happiness. Happiness is being out with your Dad taking pictures and just being two men in a car driving across the Northumbrian countryside. These little instances of happiness that just seem to carry you through. Thanks Dad.
13 years ago today, I had just had 24 hours of being a father for the second time. I had become the father of a daughter. The father of a daughter is not the father of a son. Despite what the feminists might tell us, there is still a void of difference between the two. If I listen to the ambient discourse, I have to treat my children the same in the way in the name of sacrosanct equality. This is complete codswallop because, being an only child and becoming the father of two children, I did not know what to do. I thought, well, not that bad back in the day, but little did I know that this was even more codswallop than the concept of equality.
I didn’t realise that I had to deal with two completely different people and although one was still a very tiny person, this young lady would teach me how different it can be. Did I suddenly become overprotective of her? Damned right I did. And still am. And she knows it. So does my son… Ooops a daisy!
Like any man and woman, they are complementary. The same but different, and reflections on my parenting and on my spouse’s parenting. I like them both despite their many qualities and failings. Puberty was easier to deal with when my son was going through it, but my daughter was different. I don’t know if it’s because she’s a girl or just another person. I know that this too will pass, even for her as it has for my son. But with a daughter entering puberty at 100 mph and a wife going through menopause, it’s nice having my son around as some testosterone backup. Before he came back home, there was far too much oestrogen in my house. Things can be a “little intense” at the moment.
As Padre Pio said, and whose feast day it is today, Pray, Hope, and don’t Worry. He lived in a friary and not in my house. He might have said something different had it been the case. Or maybe not. God is great, after all.
Sometimes you know that you’re going to get a reasonable couple of shots. The conditions just fall into place. Sometimes you have to break away from your Guinness and your parents hoping that they will understand.
We were out in the garden having a drink before eating that evening. It was a Sunday evening, and the day had been wonderful, and there was me thinking that it couldn’t get any better. It could! I had my Canon 6D Mark II with the 16-35mm lens which is a favourite of mine. The previous day’s sea mist had made a comeback. Now fog always makes for some very atmospherical photography as you can see here.
This view is what decided my parents to buy this house all those years ago when they first moved further north from Newcastle. With various winters and storms, some trees have had to come down, but that view through those trees just brings peace to any beholder.
As promised, I said I would share photos from my trip to Northumberland post by post. No novels, just photos…
I have got my need for colour out of my system. Maybe. Possibly. Well, never say never, and all that. I wanted to share some timeless black and white photography.
It was my first morning of photography where I sneaked a visit to Scott’s of Alnmouth for elevenses. There was the sea mist that you saw in my article Sea Mist. And when it cleared, it was an amazingly sunny day.
Not necessarily the best of conditions for photography, but as a photographer, I try to adapt to the day’s conditions. Lots of contrast etc. It also avoids getting up the crack of dawn. Thank you Dawn.
Does this mean that I am lazy? Possibly. Do I care? Absolutely not. When on holiday, I commence my day with a cup of tea (or maybe even more than one) and toast. It’s possibly time for a cup of tea right now. As I age graciously, I appreciate these simple pleasures of life. I also still have some Yorkshire tea! You’re jealous now, aren’t you!!
Right, I’m going to be completely honest with you Dear Reader, and tell you that the next few articles will be about my Summer (sorry 12 days in Summer) whilst in the UK. No novels, just photos. I might tell you a little about the context of the photos, how they happened, and under which circumstances they happened. So basically it’s my holiday snaps and not creative writing. Just thought it fair to warn you in case. You never know.
I mean, I say holiday snaps, but I have tried to keep a certain standard and make the photos look good! I wouldn’t dare do otherwise!
So, let’s get some context. The last time I was in Alnmouth I didn’t have my Canon 6D Mark II with me and I didn’t have my 16-35mm lens. As you might know by now, this is my other favourite set-up and rivals the Fujifilm X100F. Yes, I like to go a little wider when I can!
Now the following conditions were something that I had never seen before here but really knocked me for six. It was suddenly that the beach disappeared. This fog just came from the sea and ate up the entire village, like me, with a piece of cake. Gobbled it up as if it were the last cake on the plate. The whole place became quite eerie and when on the beach, I couldn’t even see the sea. I could only just make out some people sitting on the beach being very English and bloody-minded. Well, we got here. It’s foggy, but we’re still going to have a good time on the beach. It was almost French… Almost…
It was my first morning in the village and I had slipped out saying that I was off to take some photos. I was, of course, but said nothing about going to Scott’s of Alnmouth, which is a rather gorgeous deli, and coffee shop. It used to be the village Grocers, and I love what they’ve done to the place. It looks magnificent, and I also follow the owner on Instagram and was so happy to get there after so much time. I was welcomed as an old friend which always makes me feel special. The coffee was the best coffee that I had ever had in the UK, which is saying something. British people are good at tea. The French are excellent at coffee. The French have traumatised me with what they think of as a cup of tea. Warm tepid water with not enough tea, no milk, and a crappy little biscuit to say sorry. British coffee inspires the same disgust in me. Killian and I, famously, once tried Costa coffee, and said never again! And when I say never, I really mean never. However Scotts of Alnmouth destroyed the myth that the Brits know nothing about coffee, and I was very agreeably surprised. The generous slice of Tiffin that I had with it had nothing to do with my state of happiness. Well, it did, of course, but the coffee was superb!
Sometimes you just want to try something out. Be it a new feature for the website or even a new way of editing your portraits, after having watched some YouTube from Sean Tucker. The idea here was to have a portrait that had been edited without the edits being too obvious and keeping everything looking relatively natural… What do you think?
Sometimes it’s good to be good to people. I mean it’s always good to try and be a good person, as subconsciously, I would like to think that we are all called to goodness and to be decent people, despite the example given to us by the Conservative party over the last three years. Maybe there is hope and they will put past delinquency behind them.
Anyway, I’m not here to bash Boris, however pleasurable this might be. I’m here to talk to you about how I once took some photographs for somebody who was very kind about my work. It was for a guy called Elvis, who, despite the song, was not seen down the chip shop, but at a barber shop. You can see the original photos here and I have to admit that I was pretty happy with them.
Elvis was the owner of the barbershop. But he was above all involved behind the scenes in professional football, but the poor lad was going through long covid and not in a good way. Later on, whilst in training and getting thinner, he discovered a lump. It’s not the thing you want to hear when you’re about to have a new addition to your family. Thankfully, God has this way of looking after us and it was discovered and treated, and he now has a young daughter as well as his other children.
His elder daughter wanted to confect a “book” to present to various modelling agencies etc. Elvis thought of me. I of course agreed because it’s good to be good, and even better when that person is a friend. Then I went and caught COVID. Yes, I was one of those optimists who thought that with his three vaccines, he might have just escaped the dreaded lurgy! Oh silly me! Anyway, we managed to get a date together that was good for the both of us, and where good weather would be slightly more likely. I suggested taking my portable studio after the success with Hervé, so we wouldn’t have to worry about inclement weather, but we agreed on shooting on location.
We eventually decided to go to Trentemoult where the coloured houses would provide some colourful backdrops. And despite the harsh sunlight, we found lots of spots in the shade. Yes, you can have too much light. The rendez vous point was given and when they arrived we went to a café for a brief and to tell Noia how things were going to happen. Elvis, bless him, was wonderful carrying my reflector for me.
We wandered around, ooohing and ahhhing, agreeing on how pretty it was and how colourful it was, and how it was probably a good idea not to check out the house prices.
The shoot was done, we went to another café, had a beer, chatted and put the world right.
For this shoot I used the Canon 6D Mark II, with the 85mm F2.8 lens and the 50mm F1.8 lens. I would also like to thank Sean Tucker, for his expertise and tutorials for his editing techniques that I used here as I wanted to try something different and get back into Photoshop.
Dear Reader, I may have mentioned before in previous articles that for my many sins, and to curb my pride, I am a musician, and some might even go further still, and remind me I am a horn player. As a musician, we can have a tendency to “do” concerts and play in them, rather than going along as a listener. I mean, of course, that we listen to our fellow musicians, especially when playing that music together. It is a team effort, after all. But not as a spectator.
Little did I know that when I went to taste some homemade beer at my friend Hervé’s house, he would invite me to take some photos of a concert he was playing in, on the 18th of June. I, of course, jumped at the opportunity. An evening of taking photos and getting to listen to live music at the same time? What a way to spend the hottest day of the year so far!
We were rehearsing together the following Friday, and he said to be at his house at such-and-such a time, and that I should just park up in the driveway. There would also be my old and very much revered horn teacher, as in my previous horn teacher, and not my old new horn teacher, nor a teacher that is old despite his great wisdom. But that is a story for another day. Hervé was going to drive us to the concert. Jérôme, my very much revered horn teacher, plays in the same ensemble as Hervé. They are members of the Brass Quintet Arabesque, made up of instrument teachers from across my particular region of France.
So, I got into the car, turned on the ignition, saw the temperature, and promptly melted. 44°C! For those who only work in Fahrenheit, body temperature is 37°C, and 44°C is 111°F. My point exactly. By the time I reached Hervé’s house, it was a mere 40°C. A tad warm, even for me!
I drove up, parked, saw my horn teacher in very summery attire, but always with a hat, saunter up, and Smaug, the family Labrador, who you remember from my last article, who does not know what sauntering is about, just ran around the car three times and jumped up to say hello, being as friendly as ever. Bless him! We quickly went inside into the shade and cool. I do like a bit of cool from time to time.
We eventually got all the kit together in the car, thanks again Hervé for doing all the driving, and set off. The way to Guérande isn’t very complicated, and it’s pretty plain sailing. We talked about everything and nothing, about my presence at the Wind Band next year, and what alternatives I could think of, about the photoshoot from the previous week, about the various instruments and would we change instrument, how much it might cost to change, and what newer instruments could bring to the table, or should I say rehearsal room…
Parking in Guérande was a doddle, and we headed to the Collégiale, or church inside the medieval walls. We dropped everything off in the church, and things suddenly became very serious. Where would we eat? The first place we tried, a creperie, was no longer serving food, so we headed to Plan B. Plan B was fully booked, but was able to fit us in. Five brass musicians, one organist, and yours truly. Luckily I don’t seem to take up much space. Simon said he had to go and shave and came back with blood on his face. Michel, the organist that would be playing with the quintet, told us that the organ in that building needed a makeover and was basically shite. Out of tune, and half of it didn’t work. That’s something you don’t really want to hear when you don’t have a huge amount of time to have the pre-concert setup and run through. Another thing you don’t want to hear is that you’re all going to have to tune your instruments up to 444hz. This basically means you’re all fecked because your instruments have been in slightly warm cars. After all, it’s boiling outside and you’ll just never make it. The brass expands in the heat and therefore will sound flatter, and at 444hz you really need to be on the sharper side. It’s a bit like me trying to walk past a slice of cake and a nice cup of tea; it’s just not going to happen… Luckily the food arrived, as did the beers, and the puds. We were happy. I had all my camera gear, and most importantly plenty of batteries in case the batteries inside the cameras gave up the will to live. Some lovely shots were begging to be taken outside the church.
What I didn’t have, especially inside the church, was a whole lot of light. For photography, light is quite important. Understatement of the year contender again… This was going to be interesting. I had been fed by Arabesque, and now there was bugger all light inside, so photography was going to be a tad tricky.
Luckily, somebody turned on the lights and I was saved. Who said miracles never happen in the Catholic Church? They did this evening. The only photos I could take were before the concert actually began because afterwards the church would fall into darkness as there was going to be drone footage shown on a screen behind the Quintet as they played, showing the church in which they were playing. This was the main idea behind the concert. Through music and film, show people the church they were in from a slightly different viewpoint. It was great just to sit and take in the music. And take in the music I did. I was always told the importance of concert-going to musicians and how it helps us develop musically in so many ways. I only had to make an effort to sit there, make no noise, and just listen and be captivated. And captivated I was! I thought the tuning was fine and not at all the catastrophe announced by the organist. But I was just here to listen to some quality sounds and not to be a critic from the Times
The first half finished with the Toccata by Charles Marie Widor from his Organ symphony number 5. Any pedal notes that were missing from the organ were amply covered by the bass notes of the tuba that seem to just go right through you. It’s also a piece of music that has, amongst others, the ability to make my eye become all watery with emotion. I’ll leave it here for you to listen to.
The interval arrived. I say that but it didn’t really make an entrance. It just happened. The public was invited to walk around the church and rediscover images from the film in real life. They could also purchase CDs of the Quintet. 10€ each, or 20€ for three. They could also subscribe and have a CD of the programme, as well as make a contribution to the Association Résonnance, who gave their name to the entire project. It also meant that I could take more ambience photos and not be in anybody’s way.
Up until then, I had been using the Canon 6D Mark II which makes a tremendous noise when the mirror moves up to expose the sensor. I was worried that I would disturb everyone and switched to the comparatively silent Fuji XT2 with the 18-55mm zoom lens, which is a 24-70mm full-frame equivalent, so a good all-rounder for reportage. During the second half, I could be seen trying to move silently the way Corporal McCune taught me to so as not to disturb my fellow concertgoers.
The second half started with the horn and trombone playing a one thousand-year-old tune for the Easter celebration. Unfortunately, the audience hadn’t cottoned on to the fact that the second half had just started and some were still talking! As soon as the other musicians appear and Hervé started introducing the next piece, they seemed to get the message and promptly shut up! They lead us through time through the Baroque, the Classical, and the Romantic periods. They ended up with Aaron Copland, and music from Grover’s Corner, whoever Grover was. I suspect it wasn’t the same Grover that lives on Sesame Street…
After the concert, we did the official group photo, and eventually said good night and see back at Hervé’s house. It was midnight, much cooler, windy, and felt as if a storm was on the way. Jérôme fell asleep in the back, and Hervé and I just chilled, talking about this very blog and photography, especially the differences between being a good amateur photographer, and a professional photographer and how the two are completely different, in the same way, that I quickly realised when doing my music studies here in France. You have to produce consistently good results, and the pressure is on. They were already doing the concert debrief about everything that went wrong. I tried to reassure them that it wasn’t a competition and that as an audience member, I had a great time. Basically, the same things that I had been taught by Jérôme. If the audience is happy, then the audience is happy.
On the way home, we saw the sky fill up with lightning and thunder. It felt magical, and also the temperature had halved. It was a mere 22°C. It felt wonderful. We got home first and had a beer whilst waiting for the others to arrive. The others arrived and there was still some English beer for them, and some homemade beer too. It received the seal of approval from everyone present. We ended saying what went wrong with the concert and how it was a learning experience. I still thought it was brilliant. So there!!
