Tag: Mental Health

Sit Rep IJM

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Disclaimer Alert. This post talks about sensitive subjects but should be read, even by my mother. Not everything in this world is perfect. We don’t all have perfect lives. It’s not all toxic positivity. Listen first to the Deep Dive talking about this article.

Not great to be honest.  Today was not a good day.  Today was particularly shitty.  Well more pissy and shouty, but more about that later.  Let’s get something straight.  Despite what might be said in this article, I love my daughter and wife very much.  I just don’t like them a whole lot.  I can’t fucking stand them to be honnest.

My daughter is turning out to be an entitled little shit that is a typical teenager who thinks the world revolves around her and that we must all bow down and accept every whim and of course respect her and talk to her nicely.

Dad, are you on your meds?

Not effing likely.  Why should I take them just to put up with you?

So not at my best…  It would appear that I have survived blue monday.  But only just.  My “darling wife” is right in the middle of menopause and thinks HRT is only good for giving her cancer.  Intriguing thought to be honest.  At least like that I won’t be getting shouted at any more for being a useless shit show despite all the work I’m doing on myself,  I’m still a waste of air.

Stop doing that thing you keep doing!

Breathing Dear?

Why should I even bother taking the meds?

Because why should I take meds just to put up with you?

Good fucking job I love you.  

Maybe I should just jump under a bus and put them all out of their misery…

Shame I actually like my son.  He’s a good kid.  He took me out to a lovely restaurant for my birthday.  Then we went to a ‘retail outlet’ for me to buy myself a present which is adorable but I need to declutter and have too much shit in my house..  The clutter is doing my head in.

Ah well.  It could be worse.  I could be back at work…  One of my great fears.  At the moment the fashion seems to be to treat your staff sufficiently not too badly for them to be put on leave for depression.  Oops! Well that worked out really well.

Birthday on Monday and if anyone wishes me a happy birthday, I will be screaming at them internally, swearing at them and cursing them, whilst saying “thank you”with the appropriate grace.   

And no—

I don’t want to talk about it.

I don’t want to heal.

I don’t want to find meaning.

I just want it to stop!

For precautionary self censoring reasons, don’t jump under buses. You might damage the bus. You probably won’t but safety first eh! Help lines:
🇨🇭 CH: 143
🇫🇷 FR: 3114
🇬🇧 UK: 999 or 116 123
🇺🇸 US: 988

Notes, January 2026

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Welcome to this strange new world—where nations are treated like commodities, and young people stay silent whenever they don’t feel concerned.

I’m not talking about the clusterfuck that is Trump’s lingering shadow over Venezuela, or the absurd spectacle of U.S. leaders eyeing Greenland like real estate. Nor am I pointing fingers at the eerie quiet from European students and campuses while protests rage in Iran.

Maybe I’m not saying the world is going to hell.

But let’s call a spade a spade: something vital has gone missing.

Any sense of decency—gone.

And what a good job I’m not depressed.

Oh wait.

Shit.

I think back to a year ago—to the China tour—and how I still smell it on my skin. Not literally, maybe. But in the way my pantry fills with new ingredients, in the way I stir-fry now without measuring, just feeling. And the sauces I make…

Google Photos keeps nudging me: “1 year ago today.”

And just like that—I’m back there.

A before and after.

Definitely.

I see the same friends at rehearsals and revel in the memories we made.

I also look to the future. This sick leave has given me space to rest—and I feel the energy slowly returning to this body of mine.

On New Year’s Eve, my son did some “daddy-sitting” for me. I shared the evening with his friends—and for once, I didn’t feel like the spare tire, or a discarded condom in a student halls of a residence.

I felt… present.

The beard is gone, and of course my daughter hates it. At least she didn’t cry this time, like when she was two.

I’ve actually gone out and shot some film: a roll I started during summer holidays and finished in Montaigu, and another I exposed in the cathedral in Nantes over Christmas.

The first photos I’ve taken indoors since the fire.

I’m getting there.

Trying to be present in this new crazy world—where our leaders are anything but leaders, and older ways of doing things seem to be shifting beneath our feet.

I don’t know where we’re going.

But we certainly seem to be on our way…

Come along if you like.
I’ll keep the window cracked — just enough to let the light in.

Instagram’s Double-Edged Legacy: A Photographer’s Perspective

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In October 2010, Kevin Systrom and Mike Krieger unleashed Instagram upon the world. With its intuitive interface and playful filters, the app revolutionised how we share photos, ushering in a new era of mobile photography. However, over time, Instagram’s trajectory has shifted dramatically, raising questions about its impact on photography, the rise of influencers, and its changing priorities. This article delves into Instagram’s complex legacy, exploring its transformative yet increasingly problematic role in modern photography.

The Rise and Fall of Photography on Instagram

In its early days, Instagram democratised photography, empowering everyday users to become amateur photographers. The app’s filters and nostalgic aesthetic resonated with users, transforming personal snapshots into artistic expressions shared with a global audience. This initial period fostered a vibrant community of photographers who connected, shared their work, and even launched careers. However, Instagram’s algorithm, initially chronological, evolved into a complex beast driven by engagement metrics. This shift, combined with the rise of influencers and the platform’s increasing emphasis on video content, has had a detrimental impact on photography.

The Instagram Algorithm: A Photographer’s Nemesis

The algorithm, shrouded in secrecy, prioritises content that generates the most likes, comments, and shares. This has led to a homogenisation of aesthetics, favouring trends and viral content over unique artistic expression. Photographers feel pressured to conform to popular styles and create content that caters to the algorithm’s whims rather than their own creative vision. Moreover, the algorithm’s preference for short-form videos, like Reels, has further marginalised photography. Photos are often buried in favour of videos, making it increasingly difficult for photographers to gain visibility and reach a wider audience. This shift has raised concerns about the devaluation of photography as an art form and the platform’s changing priorities.

The Influencer Paradox: Celebrity Without Substance

Instagram’s influencer culture, where individuals gain fame and fortune through their follower count rather than their talent or skill, has further exacerbated the problem. Many influencers prioritise self-promotion and brand endorsements over genuine artistic expression, perpetuating a cycle of superficiality and instant gratification. This culture has also created unrealistic expectations and fuelled unhealthy comparisons among users, including photographers. The pressure to maintain a perfect online persona and constantly chase likes and followers can lead to anxiety, depression, and a loss of creative autonomy.

The Future of Instagram: A Photographer’s Dilemma

As Instagram continues to prioritise short-form video content and cater to influencer culture, photographers face a difficult choice. They can either adapt to the platform’s changing landscape by creating more videos and conforming to popular trends, or they can seek out alternative platforms that prioritise photography and genuine artistic expression. The latter option, while challenging, may be more fulfilling for photographers who value their craft and refuse to compromise their artistic integrity. By exploring alternative platforms and building communities outside of Instagram, photographers can regain control of their work and connect with audiences who appreciate their unique vision.

An Alternative?

While Instagram’s focus shifts away from photography, several alternative platforms offer havens for photographers to showcase their work, connect with like-minded individuals, and foster a supportive community. VERO, for example, boasts a chronological feed, an ad-free environment, and features tailored to visual artists. 500px provides a dedicated space for professional and amateur photographers to share high-quality images, participate in contests, and even sell their work. Glass is another emerging platform designed specifically for photographers, offering a clean interface, curated collections, and a focus on long-form visual storytelling. Ello, known for its artist-centric approach, provides a space for creative expression without the pressure of algorithms or ads. These are just a few examples of the many platforms available that prioritise photography and offer a refreshing alternative to Instagram’s increasingly commercialised environment.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Photography

Instagram’s legacy in the realm of photography is undeniably complex. While it initially empowered photographers and fostered a vibrant community, its current trajectory raises serious concerns about the future of photography on the platform. Photographers must recognise that Instagram is no longer primarily a platform for photography. It has become a commercialised space dominated by short-form videos and influencer culture. To protect their artistic integrity and find meaningful engagement, photographers need to explore alternative platforms, diversify their content, and most importantly, create work that speaks to their own unique vision rather than chasing the elusive validation of the Instagram algorithm.

24-70mm Lens: Unveiling the Beauty of Vendée Coastal Landscapes

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Work. That familiar feeling of being a hamster on a never-ending wheel. Emails, passive agressive colleagues, and meetings blurring into one another like the monotonous hum of voices in the office. Sound familiar? Yeah, that was me a few weeks ago. So, what’s a weary soul to do? Employ some sartorial elegance with navy blue chinos, a white button down shirt, my new sungalsses, and my favourite Panama hat, and embark on a spontaneous coastal escape to Vendée!

Now, full disclosure, Vendée isn’t exactly the Caribbean. But for a quick mental recharge, it certainly does the trick. Plus, it was the perfect opportunity to put my Canon 6D Mark II through its paces, specifically the oft-maligned 24-70mm f/4L lens. This trusty workhorse gets a bad rap sometimes, but let me tell you, by the end of this trip, I was a convert.

The Vendée coast is a tapestry of stunning landscapes, each begging to be captured. My first stop was Viellevigne (not strictly the Vendée and just on the other side of the Loire Atlantique border), a charming little town I usually just whiz through on my daily commute. But this time, with a camera in hand and a head full of vacation vibes, I saw it with fresh eyes. I framed the quaint church nestled between two ancient trees, a scene I’d driven past a thousand times without a second glance. The hedgerows, usually just a blur of green, revealed a hidden world of wildflowers and buzzing insects when I switched to the lens’s macro function. Suddenly, the familiar became fascinating.

Next, I cruised down to the grand canal near Fromentine. Now I don’t know if grand means big or grand in this instance. I mean it’s not huge, and the grand canal in Venice is somewhat ore deserving of the title. The sun, a generous giver of both light and good mood, cast a warm glow on the weathered ruins of old houses lining the water. Across the road bridge stood a line of fishing huts, its battered paint a testament to years of battling the elements. The 24-70mm here proved its versatility, letting me capture both the vastness of the canal and the intricate details of the local flora.

As the day wore on, I found myself at Port de Bec, a haven for oyster farmers. Here, the scene was abuzz with activity. Tractors lumbered out of the water, hauling heavy loads of oyster boats ashore. The rickety moorings, weathered and worn, added even more charm. The lens’s sharp autofocus kept pace with the bustling scene, ensuring I didn’t miss a single detail.

Finally, the crown jewel of the trip: the Passage de Gois. This legendary causeway, submerged twice a day by the tide, is a photographer’s playground (just make sure you keep an eye on the water, unlike yours truly who nearly got his sandals swept away!). The tide was rolling in fast, creating a dramatic contrast between the exposed road and the encroaching water. The 24-70mm handled the dynamic light and vastness of the scene beautifully.

But this trip wasn’t just about capturing stunning photos (although, let’s be honest, those were pretty damned cool!). It was a much-needed reminder of the power of stepping off the hamster wheel, even if it’s just for a short while. The fresh air, the sun on my face, the beauty of the Vendée coast – it all conspired to wash away the workaday stress. I came back feeling refreshed, inspired, and with a newfound appreciation for the magic that can be found right on your doorstep, if you just know where to look.

And the 24-70mm? Yeah, it more than held its own. It proved to be a versatile and capable travel companion, capturing everything from sweeping landscapes to macro details. So, next time someone throws shade at this trusty lens, I’ll just point them to my Vendée photo album and let the pictures do the talking.

Until our next adventure my Dear Reader!

The Photographer Behind the Lens

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Embarking on a photography outing is filled with anticipation, decision-making, and a blend of personal passion and professional discipline. Anything can go wrong, but maybe that’s not the right way to put it. Perhaps I should rather say, expect the unexpected and be ready to adapt. As I prepare for each little jaunt, I face a range of choices that shape the outcome of my photographic endeavours.

Selecting the Right Gear:

The first step in my preparation involves choosing the right camera for the occasion. Factors such as, “Does it still work?” for my film cameras, or “have I charged enough batteries?” for my digital cameras, enter into consideration. My energy levels and the allure of film versus digital play a crucial role in this decision-making process. For example, “Do I have the energy to develop and scan my negatives, or can I face hours of photo editing?” For me at least, it’s not just about the gear, but about the experience it brings. Those of you who have used film will know exactly what I mean. It is a totally different experience to using digital cameras. The words “faffing” and “about” spring to mind. What is my goal in going out today? Is it just to see what happens, or do I “have” to get results?

Navigating Weather and Mental Health:

Weather forecasts and mental well-being become significant considerations as I plan my outing. I, like most people, have an aversion to being rained upon. Even though I might not melt, I don’t want rain getting into the electronics in modern cameras. The allure of capturing the perfect shot often outweighs the discomfort. Yet, there are moments when self-care takes precedence, telling me to just stay in. Sometimes, staying in and getting my ironing done provides as much satisfaction as going out, allowing me to look so dapper on my next outing. The joy of unlimited cups of tea might just make staying in on a rainy day all the more appealing.

Packing the Essentials:

A well-equipped photography bag is essential for any outing. From spare batteries to a flask of tea for comfort, each item serves a purpose in ensuring a successful day of shooting. The contents of my bag reflect not only my photographic needs but also my personal preferences and creature comforts. However, the weight of the equipment is a crucial consideration, especially for street photography where mobility is key. As a more rotund gentleman of 52 years, this has become more and more important. Basically, you can take it with you, but you have to carry it. The X100F and a couple of spare batteries weigh next to nothing, but a Mamiya, or DSLR with a couple of nice zoom lenses suddenly makes you feel less young and daring. Don’t get me started on tripods. Yes, you might need one (in fact, you do) if you want to be doing long exposure photography, but imagine lugging one up a mountain. Okay, don’t. It’s not worth it. So ask yourself what do you really need, and will one of your children carry it for you? And how much will it cost you to make it worth their while?

The Lens Palette:

Crafting Perspectives: Different lenses allow me to achieve different results. If I use my 16-35 lens, I will get wide vistas in town and have a certain level of “artistic distortion.” If I use the 24-70, I have quite a good range of focal lengths, and also a macro feature on the lens. If I use my fisheye lens, I can get all “arty farty.” With a 35mm lens, I am perfect for street photography, and it’s the lens I use the most. The nifty fifty allows me to have a more human-eye view of the world.

The Digital Dilemma:

When it comes to the choice between film and digital photography, authenticity often clashes with practicality. While the allure of film photography appeals to my desire for authenticity, and it does look exceptionally cool, and you can enter “smug mode” knowing that you are arguably better than those who only know about digital photography (yes, snob value does exist!), the energy and time required for development and scanning can be daunting. On the other hand, digital photography offers convenience, allowing for instant image transfer and easy post-processing in software like Lightroom. The decision ultimately hinges on the balance between artistic vision and practical considerations, and can I really be bothered? I know, you have just lost respect for me as an artist, but the struggle is real.

Professionalism Meets Passion:

For professional assignments, meticulous preparation is paramount. From checking equipment to selecting the perfect lenses for the job, every detail contributes to achieving the desired outcome. I noticed this during my musical studies when the goal is to get a paying gig and deserving the pay. You have to get results and your reputation depends on those results. But, even in the midst of professional obligations, the passion for photography remains at the heart of every endeavor. Top tip of the the day. Always have a back-up plan. No planning survives initial contact with the enemy. You’re on your own and have to improvise. What can go wrong, will go wrong, so prepare for this.

Mapping Out the Journey:

Finally, planning the route to my destination adds an element of anticipation to the journey. Do I have to drive for miles, and will there be a loo somewhere on the way? How will I be able to acquire snacks? Are there any small producers that might need a client? I mean I don’t always think about food, but when you live in a country known for the quality of its produce, and where it is almost a duty to consume on the good stuff, it kind of is… Anyway, make sure you look at where you’re going on a map. And if you’re visiting a historic site or attraction then check the opening times. It has happened before. You turn up to a place and it’s closed, so I went a saw my plan B… The path ahead is filled with possibilities and opportunities for creative exploration.

In conclusion

The art of preparation is an integral part of the photographer’s journey. Balancing personal passion with professional commitment, each outing offers a chance to immerse yourself in the beauty of the world through the lens of a camera, whether it’s under the open sky or amidst the comforting hum of domesticity.

Finding Balance: Photography and Personal Wellness

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In the sanctuary of my thoughts, where the gentle glow of lamplight dances upon well-worn bookshelves, I find solace from the chaos of the world. With my dog, Molly, by my side, I embark on a journey of introspection.

As someone who values quiet reflection and nuanced understanding, I’ve learned to appreciate the delicate equilibrium that enriches a fulfilling life. Amidst the pursuit of knowledge and creative expression, it’s easy to become ensnared in the whirlwind of activity, neglecting personal well-being in the relentless chase for success.

Yet, amidst the simplicity of my surroundings, among the familiar scents of brewed tea and the soft hum of a jazz record playing in the background, I am reminded of a timeless truth: genuine fulfillment springs not from ceaseless striving, but from nurturing inner peace and harmony.

For photographers and thinkers alike, the quest for excellence can exact a toll on the spirit, leaving behind exhaustion and doubt. Each moment of creation demands both physical exertion and emotional resilience.

But amid life’s ebbs and flows, it’s crucial to honor the sanctity of body and mind, to heed the whispers of intuition and the call of the soul. What value is there in a well-crafted image or a finely wrought idea if born from weariness?

In my own journey as a seeker of beauty and understanding, I’ve come to embrace moments of stillness and contemplation, carving out time for rest and reflection amidst the bustle of daily life. Whether reveling in solitude or feeling the gentle caress of a cool breeze, I’ve discovered that inspiration often arises from quiet depths.

Photography serves as a therapeutic outlet for many, offering respite from the pressures of modern life. Through the lens, we enter a realm of infinite possibilities where time seems to slow and worries fade into the background. Immersed in the act of creation, we create a space where anxiety and overthinking lose their grip, replaced by a sense of calm and clarity.

For those grappling with depression or loneliness, photography can serve as a lifeline, gently coaxing us out of isolation and into the embrace of the world. As we wander with camera in hand, we become mere observers, detached from the chaos that threatens to overwhelm. In framing a shot, we find solace in the simple beauty of the moment, forging a connection with the world that soothes the soul and restores the spirit.

When I’m not at my desk, crafting articles or editing photos to share with you, I’m exploring this balance between creativity and self-care, constantly striving to find harmony in my own life.

In the tranquil sanctuary of creativity and self-discovery, photography emerges not only as a means of capturing fleeting moments but also as a powerful tool for nurturing personal wellness. Through our cameras, we embark on a journey of exploration and introspection, finding solace in the beauty of the world and sanctuary in the act of creation.

As we navigate the complexities of modern life, let us honor the delicate balance between ambition and well-being. Photography offers us a pathway to reconnect with ourselves and the world, inviting us to embrace stillness amidst the chaos and find beauty in the ordinary.

Whether framing the perfect shot or crafting prose to accompany our images, let us remember the profound interconnectedness between creativity and personal wellness. By prioritizing self-care and mindfulness in our photographic practices, we not only enhance our capacity for artistic expression but also cultivate a deeper sense of harmony and fulfillment in our lives. Even if our endeavors don’t always yield the desired result, it’s essential to recognize that the journey itself is as, if not more, important than the destination.

So, dear reader, as you embark on your own photographic journey, may you find solace in the act of creation, clarity in moments of quiet contemplation, and inspiration in the beauty that surrounds you. May your photographs serve not only as snapshots of the world but also as windows into the depths of your soul, guiding you towards a life of greater balance and well-being.

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!

Farewell, my beloved X100F

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film Photography, Mental HealthTagged , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

It is with great sadness that I must announce the unfortunate fate of my beloved X100F – its ISO dial has broken and will require repair. To those who don’t understand the attachment to a camera, it may seem trivial, but it’s like losing your favorite cup from which you drink your morning tea. The feeling of loss and instability is truly disarming. The X100F has been my faithful companion, capturing countless cherished moments.

I visited the camera shop to check if it was a simple setting issue, but alas, it wasn’t. In September, I will send it to Fuji for repair, no matter the cost. I am determined to bring it back to life.

While I grieve the temporary loss of my X100F, I find solace in other photographic tools at my disposal. My trusty XT2 and Canon 6D Mark II, along with various lenses, are there to fill the void. But it won’t be the same; the X100F had a unique charm that cannot be easily replaced.

I believe there might be a lesson in all this. Perhaps it’s a subtle nudge from the universe to slow down and appreciate the art of photography in its purest form, to revisit the world of film and embrace its magic.

During this challenging time, I gratefully welcome any moral support. Meanwhile, I’ve been diving into the world of film photography, scanning old negatives, and maybe even writing reviews on vintage cameras. It’s my way of coping with the “X100F PTSD.”

While I await the return of my dear companion, I want to share some of my favorite shots taken with the X100F. It has been a source of inspiration and creativity, and its memory will live on through the photographs captured with its lens.

Farewell for now, my dear X100F. Until we meet again.

Happy Not Dead Yet Day

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When does Happy Birthday become Happy Not Dead Yet Day?  Is there a cut-off age for birthdays, or should men become like women and become just 21 again?  Are birthdays just for children?    Why am I talking about this anyway?  Today is the anniversary of my birth.  I was born on this day in 1972, 51 years ago.  When this article will be published my birthday will have passed so don’t try finding my date of birth.  Some people love their birthdays and enjoy them and just go for it.  I, surprise, surprise, am not one of those dreadful people.  Noooo, I am just in a foul mood, and despite receiving happy birthday wishes with good grace, I remain, under my breath, just an angry old man.  What is wrong with me?!

It could be because my birthday isn’t even being celebrated on the day itself.  Well, it is but it isn’t.  I expressed the wish for a beer and pizza night.  So, of course, I’m the one who has to go out and get the effing pizzas and get the beer.  I’m not even allowed to choose the effing film, because I am a sucker for a Rom-Com, and my family members aren’t so we won’t be watching one.  My daughter chose a birthday cake, a chocolate cake, which I am rather partial to, but it has that sickly sweet icing on it and is a unicorn rainbow cake.  She’s basically taking the piss out of me.  This isn’t me being paranoid since she actually admitted everything!  I’m even more pissed off with myself as I should be grateful instead of being selfish.  Damn you conscience!!!

I don’t like being the centre of attention and feel very uneasy about it.  If any bugger sings happy birthday to me, I just want the ground to swallow me up.

There were actually people last year for my fiftieth who actually came around for a party!  The utter gall of it!  Apparently “they,” say you have to be made a fuss of and receive presents.  It was awful.  You have to sit there pretending to have a good time.  The thing was a disaster and I still have a wine stain on my favourite shirt!

I told my son last night how I generally love my fellow man, and he promptly replied with the word bollocks!   You hate people!  I don’t necessarily hate them, and I do like them, far away, and on my own terms, i.e. not in my house wishing me a happy birthday!

How can I be like this??  I have no idea.  I remember my childhood birthdays with great affection, and I can’t blame booze for giving me just partial recollections.  My mother always went the extra mile, and I remember various styled chocolate cakes with great affection.  Even when I was at boarding school birthdays were fun.  I would get some cards, and Thornton toffees from my grandmother, and Matron would come round asking me if I wanted a chocolate cake or fruit cake?  I generally asked if I could have a chocolate cake, and at the end of supper, the cake would be brought out of the kitchen and divided up amongst the whole school which was a great way to do things. 

Even when I came back into the state school system, you would get the bumps which never really hurt, and one would have to pretend to struggle and just take it, but it was a laugh.  Now it would be classed as bullying and possibly assault!  How times have changed!

So, thank you to all who have wished me a happy birthday. Thank you for not picking me up by my hands and feet and not kicking me!  Thank you for taking a moment to have a thought for me on my special day.  I really do love you all!

Dear Reader

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Françaises, Français, Belges, Belges, Mon président, Mon chien, Monsieur l’avocat le plus bas d’Inter, mesdames et messieurs les jurés, public chéri mon amour.  The manner in which that French genius Pierre Desproges greeted his audience in the infamous radio show Le Tribunal des Flagrants Délires.

It was something I heard repeated on Rire et Chansons when I used to listen to French Radio trying to learn how to become more French than the French in the vain idea that I had to learn all about French culture to be accepted by them.  Now I realise my erreur!  All I had to do to be like them was to talk French incorrectly, smoke, drink wine, feel as if I am the light of the world, and judge people.  A damning indictment possibly, but how true!

Am I here to slag off the French once again?  Not really, but it’s always something so satisfying…  They think they know everything, and yet…  But I’m just going to leave that there today and not develop, because it is not the done thing, however fun it might be!

The quote by Pierre Desproges is quite revealing in the way he addresses his public, chéri, mon amour.  Do I write for others uniquely, or is it part of my therapy and a means to expedite my inner daemons?  Do I write only to leave a trace on this world before I die?  Is this my legacy for my children?  As a writer, not that I class myself as a “writer” in the way a French intellectual might, I do write the articles on this blog, and I hope, in some small way, to either amuse you, to help you pass some time in public transport and depending on my subject of choice, help you realise that there might just be a different way of looking at the world.  Possibly. Who knows?  Who really cares?  You, Dear Reader I hope, in some small way.  Sharing is caring, after all.

According to the statistics that I get back since I started this weird and wonderful project, there have been 8 826 of you that have visited my site.  There have been 33 994 views of my pages.  The French have viewed my site 17 810 times, followed by the British with 5029, and our Colonials across the pond with 4157 views.  This amazes me firstly, because I write in English for the French apparently, and they seem to lap it up, and secondly by the views from my home country, the United Kingdom.  Thanks Mum and Dad!!  As I look over the history of IJM Photography, I would like to thank the guy in Ireland who often has a look in.  Buy that man a pint of Guinness!

Not a map of the British Empire despite the pink…

When I see all the countries in pink on this map, I keep telling myself that this is not the British empire but people from the countries who have taken a moment and have visited this blog.   I still find this amazing.  I’m just one person, among 7bn on this planet. It’s as if I have had over 8 thousand people visit my home and have a look inside my mind.

The most popular article was about the X100F camera that has a place in my heart and camera bag. 586 views that one!!  In 2019, it was an article about Humber Street with 169 views.  In 2020, Don’t Panic with 112 views. 2021 with the X100F article, and this year 2022, it was the Parisian Nights Part I. Please have a look through the archives and maybe discover things you never knew existed!

When I declared to my mother that I was going to start a website, she declared it would never last.  For once, you were wrong mother, and I apologise for this exception to the rule.  I tend to have no filter concerning what I write about and how I write it, which can lead to interesting insights into the functioning of my dysfunctional brain. I’ll let the head shrinkers have a field day with that one.  You get me, a rather large English-Irish gentleman, and my heart goes into each page and word that I write for myself and for you, Dear Reader.  Thank you for being part of this strange adventure.

Hepple for Photos not Gin

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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.

Rest and Recuperation

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Rest and recuperation, or R and R for those who know, is so underrated in these modern times where being busy is seen as being a virtue and shows how very productive you are, and yet it is vital and something we so badly need.  Yes, I’m talking to you burnt out millennials who are just seeking validation by being so into your careers to replace the love you didn’t get from your baby boomer parents.   You’re still not as screwed up as Generation X who are experts in coping with mental health. When we were kids, we just didn’t talk about it and it has led to a generation of very “interesting” people.

Anyway.  Rest and Recuperation. The clue is in the name.  For those who don’t know me, I’ll bring you up to date.  I suffer from Arthritis in my right knee and have been limping for what seems like forever, and it hurts like buggery.  I gradually have got into CBD oil in a big way and enjoy the relief it gives me, but it’s just enough to keep me vertical.  I know I’m rambling, but I want to give you a little context, or even a large context, for the rest of this article.  I also live in France and we enjoy quite a few public holidays, a majority of them being religious holidays, which I always found a tad strange for such a fiercely secular country where “laïcité” is the national religion!  So the 1st of November is All Saints’ Day, where the French will go to the cemeteries to put chrysanthemums on the gravesides of the dead, and remember what the people were like and reflect on their own personal histories.  Note to self, if I ever get flowers for my mother in law, it might be wise to get anything but Chysantemums…  I might be sending the wrong message otherwise.  In the UK, they’re a flower like any other but here they’re just for dead people.  Halloween isn’t as big over here as it is In Ireland, the UK, or the US, but Gen Z have worked out the trick or treat thing and are well into it!  So it might decide to stay after all.  In the John Mc Byrne pub, they had a right old knees up and were all dressed up!  I decided to decline.  I was resting.

Now we’re getting to the crux of this article.  As of Thursday, I have been suffering from a cold.  That’s bollocks, I’ve been dying of Man-Flu.   My nose turned into a water fountain, and for two days the tap was open and I felt awful.  Thank you brothers for your solidarity and good wishes.  But I was able to get into the car and get to work and therefore not dead, and able to work, even off my head.  Fortunately, I wasn’t working on Friday afternoon, so, was free.  My wife had left on Thursday morning to go and see her mother, minus the chrysanthemums, and would only be coming back on Sunday.  Feeling like death I thought the best thing was just to go to bed and stay there for as long as possible.  Fortune shone on me again, and there was no Friday night OHC rehearsal (insert plug here for our concert “the Planets” on the 14th of November, tickets still available here, and don’t forget the comfy seats…)  I had my dog sleeping next to me in her basket on my bedroom floor.  I would go down from time to let her do her two p’s.  Pees and poops. 

I had a call from my son asking if he could come home with a couple of friends for a soirée.  I agreed on the basis that there would be no noise and they would leave the living room (which was to become the drinking room) spotless the next day.  The friends would kip on the pull out sofa in the living room.  At least nobody would have to drive.  I drifted between sleep, going to the loo in the middle of the night, and then back to sleep.  I had a Vicks vapour stick, and by then my nose was leaking less and was staying relatively dry.  I took the dog down at 10 am to let her do her business and saw two of my son’s friends asleep on my sofa and I could not get into the kitchen.  The huge sofa bed takes up quite a lot of space.  It’s always delicate when people are staying over…

I went back down at 3pm feeling a little peckish, but they were still out for the count.  There was only one thing to do.  Get in the car, and go to MacDonalds to get my lunch.  I got back and saw my son coming out of his room looking somewhat delicate, he asked where I had been and explained why, and he just said, oh yeah and went back into his room.  I must have gone back to sleep because when I woke up they had taken the dog with them but the living room was spotless!  #DadGoals!

My wife and daughter arrived on Sunday at what seemed like mid-afternoon, and so it passed.  The house was no longer quiet.  I still rested though.  My daughter went out with some of her friends in the quest for sweets, and my wife filled up a whole bowl with sweets for children coming ringing at the door.  I was shouted at for eating some of those sweets but the return to childhood was immediate.  Emotion and food isn’t necessarily a bad thing.  Monday came around and I was worried about going to work, and not feeling up to it.

Monday came and went, and on Monday evening that I wasn’t limping and hadn’t taken any CBD.  Maybe Rest and Recuperation go together