Faded Grandeur

Last weekend we took a trip to Bridgnorth, the Shropshire market town split into High Town and Low Town by the River Severn and one of the stops on the famous Severn Valley Railway.  We coincided with a scooter rally.  It was a dull day but the flat light was lifted by the brightness of the mirrors and lights on the Lambrettas and Vespas and the cafes were awash with green parkas and Paul Weller silver fox lookalikes.  

Mods, like their vintage scooters, might generally be of a certain age, but for a brief moment, Bridgnorth was cool.

Sadly, they began to move on as we arrived - a rolling stone gathers no moss - so I only managed to get a few snaps.  Previously, when we've encountered groups of mods at trade shows, they've been more than happy to pose for photos, peacocks that they are.

This one, parked up by a lamp post away from the rest of the crowd, was our favourite.  It looks as if it's spent the best part of a decade abandoned outside a little pizzeria in the back streets of Bologna.

For anyone thirsty for more, an photographer acquaintance later shared this article with me about a fascinating photographic history project centred around Colwyn Bay's days as a mecca for mods.

Scooter Rallies Rev Up – TAPE Community Music & Film (tapemusicandfilm.co.uk)

We also ventured inside The Mill Antiques Centre in Low Town for the first time since before the pandemic.  It's one of those places we rarely make a purchase from (although this time was the exception), but just love exploring.

Sticking with the faded grandeur theme, just look at the patina on this window and door to an adjoining building!

It came as no surprise when cropping this image, to discover that there are no true leading lines.  Nothing is straight about it; from the opening via the frame to the door itself.  

 

Inside the Antiques Centre, despite the gloom and low light, I managed to snap a few photos of the eclectic wares on offer.  First up, the creepy doll.  Standard.  This would fit in a treat on the Island of the Dolls near New Mexico, which you can read about here.  Isla de las Muñecas – The Island of the Dolls (isladelasmunecas.com)

Fantastic Mr Fox is past his prime!

One for the musos.

My old rocking horse Tally....now with an asking price of £75.00.

We're both partial to a vintage travel sticker or two.

This Tuk Tuk was also an incongruous sight in a Shropshire Antiques Centre.

We came away with an anchor, which is going to get an under-the-sea shipwreck makeover (take note producers of TV's Glow Up) and a PG Tips Monkey tea towel!

Back at home, the extra curricular highlight of the week has been Gareth fixing our telescopic garden loppers.  He did so, by using a spring from an Anglepoise lamp (!) thus enabling me to have a fun session chopping anything within my puny reach and giving me a decent upper body workout in the process.  The downside?  Even after 40 minutes' toil and having completely filled the newly emptied green bin, I can't see much difference.  It's a jungle out there!

Maybe I should have called this post "Mods and Loppers!"

Another day, another fleeting trip to a Shropshire market town.  This time it was Shrewsbury, famous for being the birth place of one of my ancestors, Charles Darwin, or Chuck as I now like to call him.  

On arrival, there was a small group assembled around the pay and display meter, all seemingly unable to obtain a ticket from the machine.  Finally, I had a go and whilst it was unnecessarily complicated, I managed to obtain a ticket, but was encouraged to remain and supervise the queue that had formed, ensuring that they could all shop to their heart's content, safe in the knowledge that they were legally parked.

Faded grandeur is obviously this week's photographic style.  The changes to this town since my last visit can be summarised as new builds and boarded up businesses.  Strange times we're living in.

I have a thing about bridges.

This is an English bridge for English people!

Again, with family in tow, my photographic output was limited and I was distracted by the charity shops.

You might recall in my last post, I mentioned that the surprise package we found hidden on the edge of a local field had given me an idea.  That's slightly untrue.  I've been cultivating the seed of an idea for some time.  Not sure if anyone else remembers it, but as a child, I was completely entranced by the Kit Williams book Masquerade.

Written and illustrated by Kit (artist, author, illustrator), it was published 42 years ago in August 1979 and sparked a nationwide treasure hunt for a jewelled 19 carat golden hare hidden by Kit somewhere in Britain.  The book's exquisitely detailed illustrations concealed clues to its location.   In 2009, author and hare were reunited after it was tracked down to Egypt!

 Unearthed again – golden hare that obsessed a nation | Children and teenagers | The Guardian

Obviously I never came close to finding the hare, but the sheer excitement and playfulness of this concept never left me.  

Finding the little package last week was something of a catalyst and I decided to take a similar approach with some photographs.  We all know that we have gained much in this digital age.  But we also stand to lose a lot in terms of historical records.  We rarely print our photos anymore, preferring to amass thousands of throw away images suspended in Cloud storage and rarely revisited.  Should some evil mastermind with a fluffy white cat blow up the internet from his remote island hideout, there will be a huge gaps.

With this in mind, I have decided to obtain prints of some of my photos in an affordable and retro style 90s Instax format.  

I was so excited to receive the first batch in the post (I'd forgotten how much fun it is to await the arrival of developed photos, even though I already know how they will look).  I doubled up on them so I could retain a copy of my own, but my grand plan is to place them around the area and in many cases close to the subject featured in the photograph.  If I were to describe it in airy fairy terms, I would say it's an alternative photographic exhibition - site specific - featuring images taken during the course of a tumultuous year, reminding people to make more tangible memories.  I'm adding captions, sealing them up, keeping a record of which ones I have placed and where and hoping that people will engage and tag me to let me know they have been discovered.  I've made it clear that the photos are to be kept by those who find them.  

I've hidden in plain sight 3 so far, so we'll see what occurs.  I have 50 in total.

In the meantime - and this will appeal to vintage fashionistas - a parcel arrived first thing this morning containing a lovely matching Anokhi skirt and top.  Thanks for the heads up Vix!  It's just perfect for Autumn, but because there's a monsoon outside with little sign of abating, I can't yet post a pic.  

Lotte is not impressed and I have grave fears for my little photo packages.  But fear not, summer is set to return next week, or so they say.

In the meantime, I'm off to start building an arc.   I knew that anchor would come in handy!

Have a great weekend!

Little Things, Lasting Satisfaction

 This blog is going to be a little shorter than usual.  Well, let's see.  You know how I have a habit of digressing.

My week has mostly been swallowed up with work, anticipating GCSE results - with the usual side order of media fanfare and pressure - and trying against all odds to contact Severn Trent Water.  I won't bore you with the details and I'll park any negativity here.  This blog is going to be about small things and simple pleasures.

On one of our meandering evening walks through the wood and around, the light was fantastic.  We've reached the time of year when sunny days and balmy nights start to become less frequent, so there's a heightened sense of appreciation when the clouds part, the wind drops and all is still.

The Rowan trees are putting on an impressive display of berries, which should keep the thrush population happy.

The barley looks resplendent with its impressive gold Mohican.  

At the edge of the barley field, we discovered this little package.

For the first time that I can remember, another neighbouring field has been used to grow maize this year, making the right of way passing through the centre much more interesting, as it obscures any view of the busy A449.

On our way back, the gaps between the wood's perimeter trees revealed stunning views of the fields and rolling hills of South Staffordshire (a county which apparently, we could be set to become a part of in 2023 - if proposed boundary changes take place).  The setting sun just kissing the blades of grass and highlighting a nearby farm house caught my eye.  I'm not sure how long we will be able to enjoy this view as a lot of this land is under the capitalist gaze of greedy developers.  I decided to upload this one to the BBC's Weather Watchers (principally to give the parents a buzz).  It made the late bulletin and, as is often the case with my photos, was uncredited.  

As soon as we got home, I opened the small package we had found at the edge of the field to reveal its contents; a crocheted smiley flower keyring with a sweet message inside.  

A random act of kindness that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside (until I thought about Severn Trent).  It's also given me an idea.

Kicking off the weekend early, I took my mother on a trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon (roughly an hour away), the home of the William Shakespeare.  We parked in Shottery, a stunning little village about a mile west of Stratford and picked up the footpath into town.  We passed this man tending his gorgeous allotment.  

For some reason (probably the rust), this gate caught my attention.  Who said size doesn't matter?

Shrouded by trees and just off a busy roundabout heading into town, we explored the Peony Pavilion set in Stratford's Firs Garden.  This caused quite a stir in Shakespeare's town when it was erected in 2019, with many residents labelling it an eyesore.  I quite like it, especially the sentiment behind it.  It was named after the great work of Tang Xianzu, who lived at the same time and died in the same year as Shakespeare.  To further cement the bonds of friendship, back in the Chinese City of Fuzhou, William Shakespeare's Birthplace is also being recreated.  The pavilion is considered a token of love, courtesy of Tang Xianzu's love story, which has been passed down through the generations over a period of some 400 years.

In town, I was relatively restrained with my photography - it's a real bore for any companion.  Plus, we were distracted by the charity shops.  Whilst the prices were through the roof - anything from £10-£65.00 - I did spot this East with FabIndia skirt for £6.00 and made it mine!

So little things, lasting satisfaction.  

We ate our lunch (M&S sandwiches) in the park next to the theatre.  I surreptitiously photographed this couple, enjoying their fish and chips.  When in such close proximity, a flip screen enabling a live view is key to street photography - the photographer just appears to be looking down at the camera.  It's sneaky, but by far the best way to avoid any potential hostility.  I know I could just ask (and I have in the past) but I really want to avoid the forced pose.

We later passed this bride and groom, although something tells me that this was perhaps not a genuine union. The bride had a face like thunder (nothing to do with me and my camera) and they were walking purposefully somewhere - with no guests in sight.  A photos shoot of some kind perhaps?  Who knows?  I did quite like the matching red tie and Converse shoes.

Talking of thunder, a moody sky and ancient architecture make a great combination.  

Finally, whilst enjoying our drinks outside a nearby pub, who should walk past the Bard's school, but the man himself, with a number of curious tourists in tow.  Talk about walking in the footsteps of giants!

Last night marked a celebratory ("thank-God-the-exams-are-over-and-results-are-in") meal outside at our local.  We arrived in warm sunshine and left under gathering clouds and a chilly breeze.  Still, we managed to savour our food without being stung by a wasp or rained upon.

The Severn Trent issue was also finally resolved by a particularly friendly and helpful member of the team (a team in desperate need of greater staff numbers it transpires), which made me feel a little guilty for my social media assault on the company.  It's a crazy world now.  We have greater means of communication but when it comes to customer service, it's seemingly impossible to achieve a resolution.  Phone calls go unanswered or remain on hold for hours, forcing simple queries to be elevated to the status of a formal complaint.  

Finally - and this will give me lasting satisfaction by making me chuckle inwardly for some time to come - last night, when settling down, drinks poured, to watch another episode of The Trip to Greece (Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan), Gareth called through from the kitchen that he had bought some falafel.  I shouted to him to repeat it a grand total of three times with the words: "Some what?" to which he responded with increasing frustration: "Falafel!" before he realised that I had morphed into This Country's Kerry Mucklow.  How I laughed.

Until next time! x

A Tale of Two Halves

There's nothing like the Great British Summer (climate change aside) to remind you never to make assumptions in life.  You may recall from last week's blog (Winter Peach Photography: Time Bending), my video of the torrent of water running through the wood.  It was a rain storm of biblical proportions and made me at least as wet as if I had driven a Rolls Royce into a swimming pool, which would have been my preferred method of saturation, as opposed to traipsing through an area of woodland with denim clinging unceremoniously and in a deeply unflattering manner to my dripping flesh.

With the wet weather and slug assault on the garden in full force, I assumed summer was over....until the TV weather people started offering seductive glimmers of hope in the shape of a promised weekend of sizzling sunshine.  How fortuitous that we had arranged to see our friends Vicky (Vintage Vixen (vintagevixon.blogspot.com))  and Jon for the first time in way too long.  Today's blog, like the England vs Italy final, is a game of two halves.

I'm typing this in a cotton sun dress in 28 degree heat and basking in that special kind of Friday afternoon glow, courtesy of a pub lunch out (an alien concept these days, but only a short distance from our garden gate)...

...a monumental catch-up on a canal side walk and cheeky Friday afternoon gin (home measures) in the garden.  Suitably convinced that summer's back on, I can now bring myself to share with you some alternative photos from our recent trip to Devon.  After watching Rankin's recent TV photography challenge, I decided that I should try a warts and all approach to my photography and not just seek out the pretty pictures.  So here are a few bleak shots you won't see in a holiday brochure any time soon.

Here's a bench, a little way up Mars Hill in Lynmouth (trust me, you will need a rest even a third of the way up this hill) reclaimed by nature.

Being by the coast isn't all pastel coloured beach huts, glistening sand and sea shanties.  Seagulls are a growing menace and now, your average seagull is almost as big as an albatross.  Fact.  Conspiracy theorists (and there are plenty of those around now) might prefer to think of them as government drones.  Either way, they are great, white winged brutes.

Again, don't make assumptions.  One morning, we awoke to this - rolling sea mist - enough to bother any seaman trying to reach the harbour.  Within the hour, it had vanished.

Out on the wily, windy moor.

Run aground at Crow Point; a ship wreck retreating into the sand near Braunton.

A rear view of Damien Hirst's "Verity".  This was the best shot I could get given the people swarming around this infamous sculpture, on loan to the town of Ilfracombe for 20 years from its famous former resident.

Graphically showing  the foetus in her womb, Verity's not for everyone and caused controversy when it was unveiled in 2012.  Whatever your view, it's certainly striking and thought provoking.  How dramatic does she look, sword held aloft, looking out to sea?

Here's a shot of the sea....and not much more.  Coastal minimalism.

Given that this might be our last holiday with Covid restrictions in place (officially anyway), I thought I should record some of the signage for us all to look back on post Freedom Day (or collectively cry in our coffees to during their reappearance during the next lockdown).  Here's the distancing reminder on the approach to the funicular railway...

...and here's a rather creative way of marking out queueing distances outside the chippy.

Hats off to the Ancient Mariner Hotel in Lynmouth for this humorous set of instructions.

Finally - and you certainly won't see this on the Tourist Board website, but it happens in every city and in every town nationwide - leave a pane of glass long enough to gather a layer of dust and someone will feel obliged to inscribe a succinct message on it.  This pretty much summed up my feelings after the Euros final last Sunday.  That's not a comment on the players' ability by the way - more the pervading mood on Monday morning.

Still, enough of all that.  Back to colour.  I also took some time to capture the beautiful flowers in and around our holiday digs.   Roses were everywhere.  This beauty shed its petals in the churchyard, thus creating a faded pink carpet of rose petals; a second coming of sorts.

Another gorgeous display.

The foxgloves were still alive and kicking.

Along the coastal path, we spotted Sea Campion...,

....this pretty English Stonecroft succulent (I Googled this by the way),

....Sea Asters

and Common Birdsfoot Trefoil.

Evening Primroses also grew in abundance in the dunes at Crow Point, near Braunton - part of the Braunton Burrows Nature Reserve; a peninsula extending into the Taw and Torridge estuary.

Perhaps this is a good place to leave Devon and its delights.  Here's a photo that reminded me of the 1980s film starring Emily Lloyd, loosely based on the formative years of the eccentric suburban brothel keeper Cynthia Payne.  The film's title could also be the quintessential holiday postcard slogan for this image - Wish You Were Here.

Before I go, I'll leave you with this song from the successful young Irish band Inhaler, fronted by Bono's son, Elijah.  Their debut album has gone straight to number 1.  I think his voice definitely has echoes of his father's.  I quite like it.  

Inhaler - Cheer Up Baby (Official Video) - YouTube

So it's goodbye from us.   Here's to a splendid weekend.  What are you up to?