Tag: family travel

NORTHUMBRIAN SUMMER PART IV

Posted on Posted in Architecture, Art, Black and White Photography, Family Life, History, Reportage, Scotland, Street Photography, The UK Chronicles, Travel photography, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 4 Comments

Edinburgh, Scotland 2025

We’re still in Edinburgh. We’re walking down the Royal Mile. It’s festival season. There are plenty of shows to watch, and the one we saw first was by Max Von Trapp. Not to be confused with the Sound of Music Von Trapps, but a comic magician. One of my favourite kinds. The jokes and tricks rolled fast, as did my laughter.. Kate laughs at all the jokes, even the more adult-focused ones, just like Killian did when we visited the festival when he was that age.

Saint Giles was our next stop. As you know, I’m Catholic, not Protestant. As we wandered through the national Cathedral of Scotland, I was struck not only by the beautiful organ music, but by the lack of the familiar Stations of the Cross, the statues. The centre of attention was not the Lord and the sacrifice of the Mass, but the preacher’s pulpit. I felt this lack and prayed my daily Rosary, head bowed in prayer.

I joined Kate outside, slightly perturbed by the experience.

Lunch was a kebab. Simple and delicious. Kate loved it.

It was time to move on to see Greyfriars Bobby, a wee brown dog, famous for his loyalty. The legend is such that the people of Edinburgh raised a statue to honour him, and people rub his nose either for luck or as a sign of affection. I went into the Greyfriars Pub for some Guinness, reflecting on my own dog Molly, now 16, who greets me every morning as if I’m her favourite person and gets all excited when I get home from work. I can see why wee Bobby was a legendary dog, and why he inspired so many people.

We wandered through the graveyard looking at the tombs of the citizens of Edinburgh from the past. And we found a certain Thomas Riddell who JK Rowling used in her books. Kate acquiesced and allowed me to take her photo in front of it.

We ventured towards the Covenanters’ section of the graveyard, supposedly the most haunted section. I felt nothing and saw nothing, but Kate started to have a headache. We paid our respects and decided to find Bobby’s grave at the entrance. Kate noticed the sticks put on his grave, as you might leave a favourite dog toy. She just had to go and find him a suitable stick. Bless that dog. Teaching us a valuable lesson in pure love years after his death.

We ventured back out onto the streets of Edinburgh, leaving the relative tranquility of the graveyard behind us. This was about to be the reason she wanted to come to Edinburgh in the first place: a cocktail bar. But not any ordinary cocktail bar. The Geek Bar, decorated every four months into a new theme. The theme she wanted was from a video game that she plays with Killian. Oh no—they’d changed everything… It was now all about Stranger Things on Netflix—something I had heard by name but knew nothing else about.

Liquor? Maybe quicker, but it’s not something I’m a great fan of. The lady took our order and explained the concept. I felt as if I was in Starbucks for the first time. She asked which flavours I liked, and with her expert help, I made up my mind. The drink was obviously dangerous—too smooth, too sweet—and I couldn’t feel the alcohol. Neither could Kate, who was only allowed a mocktail. I have to be a responsible parent after all. The second round was just as deadly, and I was beginning to feel very happy. I wonder why…

So maybe, at the end of all this, the real magic isn’t in the tricks or the drinks or even the famous city. It’s just—being there. Following your children into their weird, wonderful universes, and watching them set the place on fire with laughter.
And really, what’s better than that?

Mon beau-père, ce héros

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My father in law, this hero.

This is the final chapter from our trip to Brittany. Now, where were we? Ah yes—the party in my pants. Not the fun kind. Not the sexy kind. The kind caused by just one “not so good” mussel.   I had paid my tribute to the seafood god.  And of course, as any self-respecting Frenchman would, we started thinking about lunch.  How very continental!

Marina has a flat just opposite where Gisèle, my mother in law, lives, and had made the very kind offer of feeding us that lunchtime.  Virginie, my wife, was asked if she wanted oysters for lunch.  No she didn’t, Maman. Did I want oysters?  Thinking back to my uncomfortable tribute to the seafood god, not for me, Gisèle. Oh I must have eaten a mussel that wasn’t bon…  Possibly Gisèle…

Gisèle still opened all the oysters she had and laid them out on a platter.  We would take said oysters with the leftovers from yesterday’s mammoth family lunch.  Yes of course I could take this, and that, and t’other….

The plan of the day: eat with Marina, Vincent, Raymond and Sylvie, and then go and see my father in law in hospital before heading home.

We ate with Marina and the others, and it was a lovely meal and we were made to feel so welcome.  Champagne to celebrate the 14th of July.  Ah well, I took one for the team and had a glass.  I wouldn’t be driving anyway.  My wife would be driving since I don’t know how to drive, and when I do, I drive like an old man.  My mother seems to like me driving like an old man, so there, Virginie!

The meal and company were both delicious, but like all good things had to come to an end.  We were going to the hospital to visit my father in law.

The poor chap hasn’t been well for some time, and has battled through cancer, botched operations, and old age.  This was the man I had met 32 years ago.  He was the Pasha.  The main man.  The man.  He was the archetype of a French male.  A man that I had grown to love and respect over the three decades.  Not always easy but what is?

We wandered through the hospital, and we eventually found Monsieur Jacob in his bed watching Arte, and films starring Jean-Paul Belmondo.  He was in pain but so happy to see us.  He looked nostalgic when watching the film, similar to the way I do when listening to the music of my youth.  However, he was no longer the man I had once known.  He had lost his right leg, and actually started to look old.  He looked like a shell of the man I had first met all those years ago.  His hands, once so strong they could crush a walnut, now trembled slightly under the thin hospital sheet.  Virginie held her father’s hand with such love and his eyes were telling her how much he loved her.  She told him about the trip to the UK to see my parents this summer, and about the children.  How Killian was back home, how Kate was changing schools, and how everything was good at home in Vendée.

We didn’t want to tire him more than necessary, and he had a date with Belmondo.  He hugged his daughter, then took my arm and kissed it.  Time moves on whether we like it or not.  He might no longer be the Pasha, but he’s still the man!

The Pyrenees Mountains – and the Pont d’Espagne which isn’t in Spain

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If the Vendée is Jane Birkin — elegant, understated — then the Pyrenees are full-on Marilyn. Proper mountains. Vast. Unapologetic. Even in May, some peaks were still capped in snow.

I was in Lourdes hoping to strengthen my faith. I think Killian needed that too — but more than anything, he needed his mountains. Now, finally, I get it. Up there, I saw him more clearly: less the boy I once knew, more the man he’s becoming.

Like most of us, he has his issues — but he’s working through them. And sometimes, he even lets me help. Those are the moments I think I might just be getting somewhere as a father.

He’d decided we were heading to see his beloved mountains. The place? The Pont d’Espagne — yes, in France, despite the name. I may have mentioned that. Maybe.

We left the impressive foothills of Lourdes behind and climbed into the real mountains. Snowy peaks against blue sky and drifting clouds. Windows down, music low, we drove toward the famous pont. It had better be worth it.

Killian and I travel at a relaxed pace. If the view’s good, we’ll pull over. Get the camera out. Take a few shots. See what happens.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it’s a fiasco. But more often than not, we come away with something.

Oh no! Catastrophe! A village where you can park, and go and get an ice cream. Ah well. We took one for the team, and the lady behind the counter told us that the previous week they had snow and were shut, yet this week everything looked just like a day in May should look like. Ice cream seems to have this way of just hitting “that” spot. It’s not the tidiest of foods to eat, but it’s one I’ve developed a great fondness for it over the years.

I was already learning how to approach the infamous concept of the hairpin bend. As you know, a full head of hair hasn’t been my issue for years — let alone hairpins. But the name fits. The main thing is to drive slowly, carefully, and not die… Given I’m writing this now, reports of my untimely demise were, as they say, greatly exaggerated.

We arrived at the Parc National des Pyrénées. You go through a barrier that didn’t seem to be working — one that had given up on life and was just standing to attention, waiting for whatever ‘it’ might be. So, being the thoroughly decent chaps and all-round good eggs that we are, we tried to find a ticket. We couldn’t, but since we had tried, we said something that rhymes with bucket, and started walking to see, at long last, the bloody bridge. It had better be worth it.

I had the X100F with me and Killian was carrying my DSLR and kit. What a good lad he is. He later said that if I wasn’t lugging it around, we might’ve gone just that little bit further. So back to the pont…

Before we even saw the bridge, we heard it: the sound of the water was tremendous. Water is a primeval force, and this was huge. I wanted the “money” shot, and decided to try with the X100F, giving it a sporting chance. The Canon 6D Mark II, with its stabilised lens, would come out on top. Handheld at 1/6th of a second? Not ideal — but fun to try. You get the feeling of movement in your shot, and with the magic of ND filters, you’re not overexposed.

The site itself is just astounding — not just because of the view or the sound, but because of the raw power of the place. Killian led me grumbling up the hill and we sat down to have our picnic. We fed the ants a bit of our pâté en croûte and watched them discover it, then devour it completely. And devour it they did.

He led me past the téléphérique — closed, of course — and followed the river until we reached a wide, flat-bottomed valley with water snaking through it. We saw traces of horses and wild boars, which are a lot less boring than you might think. I noticed the clouds coming round the mountains as they go, but not singing. I don’t know a huge amount about mountains, but that’s usually a cue to get back to the car…

The walk back to the car was just about being father and son — taking the mickey out of each other as we went. It seemed to be the way we operated, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

The UK Chronicles, Part II: Alnmouth

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A Rare Visit to Alnmouth: Making the Most of It

Little did I know this would be my only visit to the beach and village of Alnmouth this year, so I decided to make the most of it. I had my X100F around my neck, as usual. I was up at the crack of dawn, chasing that perfect light once again.

The morning routine was pretty much the same as my first day in Lesbury: early rising, early breakfast, and an early cup of tea. The weather was gorgeous, and the light was amazing. What could go wrong?

Arriving in Alnmouth: The Beauty of Early Morning Light

I hopped in the car and headed to Alnmouth, just a short drive down the road. As I came around the roundabout in Hipsburn, Alnmouth and the River Aln came into view, bathed in golden light. The reflections on the water were breathtaking. It was early enough to find a parking space without any trouble. If you’d like to see more photos of Alnmouth, I can add a link for you.

Exploring Alnmouth: A Village with a Rich History

As the name suggests, Alnmouth is a village at the mouth of the River Aln. It was once a bustling port, playing a significant role in 17th-century Northumbrian trade. I’ll let you read up on that on Wikipedia, and I’ll be here when you’re done.

The village was still asleep as I made my way past the golf club and down to the beach. The only people around were a few dog walkers and me, enjoying the morning’s fresh air. The orange hues in the sky were perfectly reflected on the sand.

Discovering Color in Photography: A Shift in Perspective

For those interested in color theory, the use of complementary colors was striking—blue skies contrasted beautifully with the oranges in both the sky and the sand. I’m on a quest to explore my colorful side. While I still love black-and-white photography, this trip made me eager to embrace color.

My knee wasn’t even hurting; I felt fantastic. Maybe there’s something to be said about the sun’s healing powers. I made my way back to the car, carrying a lump of coal I’d found on the beach. It was too good a find to keep to myself. Surely, Killian would be up by now. Lesbury was only five minutes away. Oh, what the heck? I’ll go wake him up!

Father-Son Bonding: Revisiting Alnmouth Together

Killian was fine getting up and out with me. I only had to bribe him with a sandwich and some chocolate. We went back to Alnmouth together, and I took more pictures of the village. It was a very pleasant father-son bonding moment. He wanted to go to the post office or general store. They didn’t take cash, and for once, I was able to pay with my card for him.

Switching Editing Tools: From Snapseed to Mobile Lightroom

I recently talked about Snapseed and had been using it to edit my photos, but this time, I wasn’t happy with the results. The photos had so much potential, and I didn’t want to waste them. Some friends had recommended Lightroom Mobile, so I decided to give it a try. I already knew my way around Lightroom on the PC, and I felt right at home with the mobile version. It was very intuitive—almost as much as Snapseed. What a pleasant surprise!

So, I went back with Killian and took more pictures of the village. It turned into a wonderful father-son bonding moment. He wanted to visit the post office or the general store, but they didn’t accept cash. Luckily, I could pay with my card for him.

A Missed Opportunity: Scotts of Alnmouth

I was hoping to visit Scotts of Alnmouth, but they were closed. As we walked back to the car, I saw the owners heading to work and was invited to come back when they were open. Unfortunately, I never managed to return to taste their wonderful coffee and cakes. That was the only low point of the holiday. But as that Austrian strongman and actor famously said, “I’ll be back!” It’s good to be home.

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 – Preface

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Off to the UK

Good Evening, Dear Reader. You might not be able to feel the same excitement and trepidation as me, but I can assure you it’s palpable. I’m not talking about the Olympics, or the opening ceremony, which was very, very French. I’m talking about my upcoming annual leave. I will be going home to the UK for 10 days. I will be going home. Home is where the heart is, and as my mate David Frank once reminded me, you can take the boy out of Hull, but not the Hull out of the boy. How right he is. Even after 30 years of living in a foreign country, and despite having become somewhat “continental,” the UK is, and always will be, home.

Heading Home: Embracing Nostalgia and Anticipation

The physical preparations are not underway yet, but the mental ones certainly are. We will be driving up to Calais from the Vendée. It is a drive that over the years has become vaguely familiar, and I have the images in my mind of the various stops along the way, and the signs that I will be looking out for. My wife is a professional driver, and I will be relegated to helping out when she becomes tired and needs a rest.

The Road to the North: Familiar Drives and Service Station Delights

I don’t know about you, but when I’m in my car, I’m in a familiar environment, and it feels a little like having a part of my home with me. The controls for driving are second nature, and I don’t have to think. As I have mentioned, I am a creature of habit, and despite not being alone whilst driving, and the possibility of a mad screaming harpie, I mean wife, sitting next to me, I’m still looking forward to the trip. For the first time in 4 ½ years, my son will be coming with us, so I’ll have some masculine back-up and will feel less dominated by my daughter and wife.

We will have a stopover in Dover, and take the now familiar road up to Northumberland to see my parents. I’m actually looking forward to the service stations in the UK, especially one near Peterborough, that has a kind of Food Court, which includes Marks and Spencer. I’m looking forward to biting down onto a prawn cocktail sandwich, and a Wensleydale and carrot chutney sandwich. I know it’s not the “gastronomie” that the French might talk about, but to me, it’s about the nostalgia of the thing. It’s part of coming home.

Home Away from Home: Comfort in the Driver’s Seat

But, I hear you say, Dear Reader, you haven’t talked about cameras or photography yet? And you would be right. Thank you for allowing my little trip to nostalgia land. So, let’s talk about cameras for this trip. There is, of course, the X100F, that is the travel photographer’s camera par excellence. It’s compact, it works, and gets the job done. It’s what I will probably be using nearly 80% of the time. The 35mm F2.0 lens has me covered for nearly all situations, and if I take the telephoto conversion lens, then I’ll be even more covered.

Capturing Northumberland’s Beauty: Gear and Location Plans

Do I already have plans for where to take photos? Mayyyybe…

I have already a largish selection of photos of the village of Alnmouth, that you should be able to find on this site, either by using the search bar, or looking at the tag list at the bottom of every article. But, believe it or not, Northumberland is not just about Alnmouth. I know. Mind blowing.

I would like to get some shots of Dunstanborough Castle (for which I might even have to take my Canon 6D Mark II and various lenses, but I’m not sure about that yet), Beadnell, Seahouses, the Farne Islands, Holy Island, Craster, Bambourgh Castle. There’ll be beaches, islands, birds, seals, boats, and harbours. I even thought of going down by Amble and maybe stopping off in Walkworth.

That might mean a Canon bag, with lenses and filters, and possibly even a tripod. Decisions, decisions. Do I need more room in the car, and will the family gang up on me if I take more photography kit with me? There is a difference in volume and weight, of course.

Weathering the Storm (Or Not): Temperature Contrasts and Photographic Possibilities

I suppose it all depends on the weather. One tends not to visit the UK for the great weather. Here in my little corner of France, it’s supposed to be getting up to 36°C today. Not in Northumberland, though. I’m expecting 20°C and maybe lows of 14°C. Much more comfortable, and almost human.

Conclusion

So “home is where the heart is” is still something that resonates with me.  Thirty years a foreigner, and yet as a lot of us immigrants, we’ll never be completely at home in our adopted country, we are condemned to never feel fully at home in our home country.  We will be “continental”.  Our very essence has changed. The nostalgia for a past that has moved on since we left is another of our penances.  Maybe that’s why I do so much black and white photography; a way of trying to capture this bygone time.

The Opening of the Film Archives – Le Hangar à Bananes July 2016

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Continuing our journey through the film archives, we find ourselves on the Île de Nantes, home to the iconic Hangar à Bananes. Let’s rewind to July 2016, when I captured this vibrant scene with my then favourite Canon AE1. Once a shipbuilding powerhouse, Nantes had cleverly repurposed its abandoned infrastructure into a bustling hub. The area is now home to the fantastical Machines de l’Île, the historic Chantiers Navals, the towering Grue Jaune, and of course, the Hangar à Bananes itself. Back then, the Hangar was a hive of activity, buzzing with picnics, impromptu barbecues, and lazy afternoons under the summer sun.

My goal was to capture that unmistakable “Summer Vibe.” As always, I started with the architecture, drawn to its striking modern lines, a refreshing departure from the stark brutalism of the 1970s. The clever use of texture and the innovative design of the apartment buildings particularly caught my eye.

That summer, the Voyage à Nantes festival had a brilliant idea: communal barbecues for everyone. Genius, right? You simply brought your food, and they provided the grills, charcoal, tables, and chairs. It might not be Texas, but the French know their way around a barbecue, and being the food lovers they are, they go beyond the usual sausages and burgers. It was a true testament to what a public space should be – a place for everyone to gather, share, and simply enjoy themselves.

Then there was the dancer. He was just filming himself with a GoPro, but the way the sunlight caught his movements and the glistening sweat on his skin was mesmerising. It was a fleeting moment, the first and only time I’ve ever photographed a dancer, but it left a lasting impression. There’s something undeniably captivating about the human body in motion.

My wanderings continued to the edge of the island, where the mighty Grue Jaune – now a “monument historique” and a symbol of Nantes – stands tall. Walking past and through this enormous yellow crane was an awe-inspiring experience.

Along the riverfront, the Anneaux de Buren, a series of massive rings, stretched out in a mesmerizing pattern. At night, they transform into a dazzling display of vibrant reds, blues, and greens – a photographer’s dream, offering endless possibilities for capturing leading lines, geometric shapes, and unique framings of the cityscape.

And of course, no photo series of mine would be complete without the obligatory bike shot. It’s a bit of a tradition for me.

Even now, in 2024, the Hangar à Bananes still exudes that same “Summer Vibe.” It remains a popular spot for after-work drinks with friends and colleagues, boasting a variety of restaurants, bars, the HAB Gallery, and the infamous “Warehouse.” While the area can get a bit dicey later at night, it’s perfectly safe and enjoyable for a daytime visit or an early evening soirée.