Memories Of The Summer

I spent most of last week fighting off a seasonal virus. Malaise. Fatigue. Sore throat.  I avoided public transport and rested at home.

Thankfully, I’ve recovered for the most part, although I’m finding the shorter days and longer evenings unpleasant. I enjoy reading, however, and have managed to get my Kindle working again after a prolonged internet outage – a story in itself.

I’ve downloaded several psychological thrillers, some of which I’ve found unsettling and disturbing, especially in regards to the narcissistic antagonists.  Such characters appear stereotypical, almost two-dimensional, at first – and then the denouement provides answers that help bring the story to life.  Lots of basements/cellars with terrible secrets; even these dramas can offer a new perspective if told in a particular way.

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I miss the summer.  In September, I paid a brief visit to Dorset where I spent a few hours with a friend in the late summer heat. I attach two photos from that day.

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Till next time.

A Taste Of London

Autumn In Words

First, spring. Then, summer.  Now, autumn.

I prefer spring. It leads somewhere. Summer comes and then the season ebbs, and cooler weather returns, bringing darker, shorter days. Finally, winter: slush, rain and snow.

In the excerpt below, I attempt to capture the magic of autumn from the perspective of a man looking back at boyhood, despite his current difficulties;

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Home, although I don’t recognise all the landmarks or the streets. Some are new, others I must have forgotten about.

I can almost feel the reassuring touch of the wind on my face, the autumn glow in the air, the innocence and excitement of childhood. Chilly mornings and glum skies. Craig and Gordon and I walking to school, discussing Top of the Pops or Tomorrow’s World.

I slow down to glance at the local park where we used to play twenty-five years ago and I see the three of us sitting on the grass mound by the fountain with our friends Callum and Shane, our bikes just yards away near the play area fencing, Craig Winters staring up at the sky at a plane slipping into the horizon, a far away expression on his face.

He was like that, a thinker fascinated with space and time travel and Dr Who and The Tardis. Intelligent and serious, yet naughty a lot of the time. He wanted to be an astronaut and believed he would land on the moon one day. He didn’t. No.

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Till next time.

September Returns and An Acupressure Sequence

The title says it all. Summer has come to an end, autumn beckons. Unpredictable weather lies on the horizon. Storms. Unexpected heatwaves.

I learnt a gem of an acupressure sequence that anyone can do. It comes from a Japanese ancient healing art, Jin Shin Jyutsu. 

It involves placing the hands together in a prayer position with palms and fingertips touching, albeit gently.  After a couple of minutes, the person *holds the thumb and fingers one by one with the other hand, always gently.  Then they switch to the opposite hand, again gently.  If the person chooses, they can adopt the prayer position hold in between the switching of hands and/or at the end of the sequence.  The sequence can last between a few minutes and half an hour or more, eyes open or shut (it doesn’t matter).

*holds: wrapping fingers and thumb around a finger or thumb on the opposite hand with holding thumb placed on palm or dorsal side of hand.

Good luck.

Till next time.

A Football Match

The weather has changed in the last few days.  First, intense dry heat. Now, wind and rain.

I’ve always found sudden weather changes difficult to handle. I have a tendency to end up with sore throats and bad chests

A week ago, I went to watch a charity football game at a local club. The matches were held in memory of a young man who had died a few years earlier  Afterwards, we headed to the club bar to watch the medals awards and to hear speeches and tributes. His family was there and the atmosphere was raw and emotional with people crying as they spoke. I drank four glasses of wine with my party, then headed home on the London Underground where chanting football fans boarded the train.  I must admit that the chanting that night evoked unease in light of recent protests across the UK – but I arrived home safely.

I thought I would close with a photo of a beautiful dog that had a difficult start in life. He is now flourishing and has grown very mischievous.  I joined him for a walk a day before the football match and took photos:

Till next time.

Museum Of The Home, Hoxton

Recently I spent a Friday afternoon at the Museum Of The Home in Hoxton, a stretch of London on the edges of the East End.

My friends and I visited rooms reassembling those from the past and later went to a lower floor to view an exhibition-like display.

Images of the workhouses affected me the most, especially when I viewed the despair of one woman who had buried her head in her hands as she lay in a wooden bed that looked eerily like an open coffin. It caused me to think of the current homeless situation in the UK and how people in emergency situations through no fault of their own are often treated like rubbish, especially if they don’t have savings and/or are not middle class.

I took photos of some of the rooms and include them below.

Till next time.

Twelve Years, No Smoking

The anniversary fell in the early hours of Monday. Exactly twelve years earlier, I’d stubbed out my final cigarette, uncertain of what would follow but determined to quit for good.  I’d smoked from my teen years and was now a chain smoker of sixty a night.

From 60 to 0. I didn’t succumb to temptation during the twelve years.  My health, particularly the state of my lungs, provided a reason to give up smoking.

I also understood how addiction worked, especially addiction to tobacco.  The third day of quitting is always the most challenging, teasing people with thoughts like, “Oh, you can have a few and relax, and give up again tomorrow. You’ll be stronger anyway from not smoking for those few weeks.”  Unfortunately, this rarely works.  The third days become two days and then one.

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Below I attach the full story as shared over a few posts in 2019 (please note that the post index is presented at the end of each post and in reverse chronological order).  Happy reading!

Quitting Smoking, Seven Years On: The Conclusion

Hoping To Capture Atmosphere With A Phone Camera

Barbican Area, City of London

Some Arty Stuff

I admit that keeping a Blog going takes effort and time and that I don’t know how to develop this Blog as it currently stands. The Blog complements a number of static pages, acting as a website of sorts. And, of course, WordPress is a great place to share and write.  A Content Management System. And so much more

“Share what you feel like sharing,” is perhaps the best advice.  With this in mind, I’ve created some more photo collages from the years 2010/11 and 2023, using simple photo editing.  

I hope you’re enjoying the summer.  Last night, I went to a summer concert and valued the opportunity to do something different.

Till next time!

2010/11

2010

Coller (“To Stick, Glue, Paste”) Collage

I believe that the word “Collage” comes from the French verb Coller

When I first developed an interest in Digital photography, I avoided the artistic (‘arty”) possibilities offered by photo editing software, adopting something of a puritanical view and believing the least edits the better.

Certainly, I feel that edits won’t save a badly taken photo and I usually discard an image if  three alterations fail to address a problem.

Nevertheless, more recently, I’ve enjoyed tinkering around with photo software and creating collages.  I think that photo editing (especially in regards to phone photography) has improved substantially in the last few years

Today I include three recent collages with a greater degree of artistic interpretation.

Chesham, Bucks

North London

Off to Dorset

Till next time.