Tag: Humor

The UK Chronicles – Preface

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Northumberland, The UK Chronicles, Travel photography, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 16 Comments

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.

Ian James Myers: A Candid Exploration of Life, Humor, and Cultural Observations

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At 52 years old, Ian James Myers embodies a unique blend of wit, introspection, and cultural curiosity that permeates his writing and captivates his audience. Through candid conversations and insightful reflections, Ian invites readers into his world, offering a glimpse into the complexities of his mind and the richness of his experiences.

From his irreverent musings on birthdays to his humorous critiques of French culture, Ian’s writing is characterized by its authenticity and unfiltered honesty. He doesn’t shy away from discussing personal struggles, societal issues, or the absurdities of life, infusing each piece with a refreshing dose of humor and self-awareness.

Ian’s journey through life has been anything but conventional, and his writing reflects the myriad twists and turns that have shaped his perspective. Born in the United Kingdom and later relocating to France, Ian has navigated the complexities of cultural identity and belonging with humor and grace. His observations on French society, from its perceived arrogance to its cultural quirks, offer a nuanced portrayal of life as an expatriate.

One of the most striking aspects of Ian’s writing is his willingness to confront difficult topics with candor and vulnerability. Whether he’s grappling with mental health struggles, navigating familial dynamics, or pondering life’s existential questions, Ian approaches each subject with a keen sense of introspection and empathy. His writing serves as a mirror for readers to reflect on their own experiences and find solace in shared humanity.

Despite his self-professed “grouchiness” and irreverent humor, Ian’s writing is imbued with a deep sense of gratitude and humility. He expresses genuine appreciation for his readership, acknowledging the role they play in his creative endeavors and the sense of community they foster. From the thousands of visitors to his website to the supportive comments left by readers, Ian’s audience serves as a source of inspiration and validation for his work.

Ian’s writing journey has been a testament to the power of authenticity and self-expression. He doesn’t conform to societal norms or expectations but instead embraces his quirks and imperfections with unabashed honesty. Through his writing, Ian reminds us that it’s okay to be flawed, to question the status quo, and to find humor in life’s absurdities.

As Ian continues to navigate the ups and downs of life, one thing remains constant: his commitment to sharing his unique perspective with the world. Whether he’s chronicling his adventures in photography, reflecting on the passage of time, or simply sharing a humorous anecdote, Ian’s voice resonates with authenticity and warmth.

In a world inundated with noise and superficiality, Ian James Myers stands out as a beacon of sincerity and humor. His writing challenges us to embrace our own quirks, to find joy in the mundane, and to approach life with a healthy dose of skepticism and laughter. As we journey alongside Ian through the ups and downs of life, we are reminded of the power of storytelling to connect us, to inspire us, and to remind us of our shared humanity.

This article was generated by Chat GPT after having been shown various articles on this blog and asking for him, or should I say her, to analyse some of the more juicier ones. I can assure you Dear Reader that they have not become my therapist, but isn’t it interesting to get a non biased idea on who AI thinks I am. I’m not sure about eye-opening, but definitely interesting. Am I unhappy about what they said? I’m not really sure. Those of who who know me personally, or throujgh my writing, tell me what you think. Feel free to be completely honnest in the comments section. That’s what it’s there for!

Has Spring sprung, or is it just springing?

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, FranceTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 6 Comments

In my little corner of France, the weather has been a little on the rainy side.  We had a good week at the end of January, but since February, somebody, somewhere, without knowing the ramifications of his words, must have said, “et bah, on a besoin d’eau hein….”  God obviously granted this person their prayers and we have been rained on for the last few weeks!

It all began with a brief respite at the end of January, a fleeting interlude of sunshine before February just started urinating on us from above. It’s as if someone, somewhere, uttered the magic words, invoking the heavens to shower us with their blessings. And shower us they did, with rain pouring down like a pissing cow (as the French so poetically put it) that had been on the lash all night , couldn’t find the loo, and could no longer keep it in.

Yesterday, we were visited by none other than Louis, the storm, and not the child of the Prince of Wales. His presence was felt with each gust of wind and every raindrop that tapped against the window.  This was proper rain.  The kind of rain that makes your Yorkshire more elderly aunts would tell you that you might want to put a coat on, but told off by your Northumbrian grandmother if you dared use an umbrella.  It was a different time…  I would dash out to do my quality control for the timber deliveries at work whilst trying to dodge the heavy showers and not get blown over by the 50 mph gusts of wind.

But amidst the downpour, signs of Spring’s imminent arrival emerge like treasures hidden in plain sight. No longer do I awaken to the frosty chore of scraping ice off my windscreen; instead, there’s a gentle warmth in the air, a whisper of hope that dances through the rain-soaked streets.

As I make my way through the soggy pathways, I can’t help but notice the subtle changes taking place. The blackthorn bushes in the hedgerows begin to bloom, their delicate blossoms a testament to nature’s resilience. Daffodils peek out from gardens and roadside nooks, adding splashes of colour to the grey canvas of the day.

And despite the forecast calling for more rain, there’s a sense of optimism in the air, a feeling that Winter’s grip is loosening and Spring’s embrace is just around the corner. It’s a feeling that stirs something deep within, a sense of anticipation for what lies ahead. As you can see in the photo, it doesn’t rain “all the time.”

We still aren’t in 100 ASA film weather, except if you only want to shoot at F1.8, and when in 400 ASA we can start to go over F8, at least during the day.  You thought I wouldn’t talk about photography?  Really? At least I can go out and catch the rain on film.  Sunnier days are brighter, but the melancholy of rain is just as special and poetic.

So, dear readers, as we navigate the unpredictable dance of Spring’s arrival, let us do so with all the warmth and humour of old friends reunited. For whether it be the son of the Prince of Wales or the ghost of various Kings of France, when Louis comes knocking, it’s bound to be a royal affair.

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 testament to this bittersweet evolution, a journey that took me from childhood memories to present-day, all while grappling with my inner aversion to “my” birthday celebrations.

A Childhood of Festive Delights

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.

Adolescence: A Shift in Celebrations

In the 1980’s this evolved into being asked what kind of cake I wanted by Matron, choce 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.

France: Embracing a New Cultural Tradition

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

The Familiarity of Family Gatherings

The 2000s and 2010s saw a familiar rhythm to my birthday celebrations, with the occasional variation in cake flavours and dining arrangements. However, the arrival of my own children introduced a new dimension, as they now eagerly embrace the role of party planners, injecting their unique energy and enthusiasm into my special day.

A Begrudgingly Enjoyable Birthday Celebration

My most recent birthday weekend was a testament to the bittersweet 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 throught two rolls of film, and then enjoyed a quiet evening at home cooking with my son.

In between indulging in my passion for photography, capturing fleeting moments of joy amidst the forced festivities. I also sought a moment of reflection during confession, seeking solace amidst the overwhelming 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 embarked on a day of exploration, venturing to Saint Nazaire for an early 6am start and performance at the Folles Journées, a celebration of clasical music. The day concluded with a heartfelt moment at mass, surrounded by the love of my family.

Monday Morning: A Gratitude for the Past and a Renewed Perspective

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 workweek, armed with the knowledge that birthdays, despite their uncomfortable nature, could be occasions for reflection, connection, and a touch of forced fun.

Older and Wiser, Yet Still a Grouch

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. After all, birthdays, like life itself, are a journey of mixed emotions, unexpected turns, and the enduring power of family and love.

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!

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