According to Horace, 'A picture is a poem without words'. That would seem to be a good motto for a photography blog. But I like to write (and talk!) almost as much as I like to take photos. So my posts are usually a mix of the two, and I leave my readers to decide whether the pictures or the text say the most.
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You must have been living on Mars, or as a hermit, not to have heard that Queen Elizabeth II passed away last week. Here in the UK we are in a period of official mourning such as most of us have never experienced. Whether you are a fervent monarchist, staunch republican or (like me) somewhere on a scale between those two extremes, it’s hard not to be fascinated by the sense of history that surrounds us right now.
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Although August has been hot, mostly sunny and very dry, I can already sense that summer is closer to its end than its beginning. The lights are going on earlier each evening. The warmth of the sun is tempered by a cooling breeze. And a few showers, and one day of steady rain, have started to re-green the weary grass in our parks.
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In 1132 a small group of monks left their Benedictine Monastery in York, fed up with the extravagant and rowdy lifestyle of the monks there. Seeking a more devout and simple way of life, they were granted a parcel of land by the River Skell where they built a small wooden church and applied, successfully, to join the Cistercian order.
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Burning Man is a unique event that takes place every year in the Black Rock Desert in Nevada, USA. But we are not in the deserts of Nevada; we are among the green hills of England’s Peak District.
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When Alexander Hadfield, a tailor, ordered a bale of cloth to be sent from London to his home in the small Derbyshire village of Eyam, he cannot have dreamed of the dreadful consequences. Nor could he have dreamed that this simple action would be remembered centuries later.
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How many windows is too many? That was the question facing many seventeenth century property owners. In 1696 a window tax was introduced in England and Wales. The more windows a building had, the more its owner had to pay.
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While the flat lands East Anglia may lack scenic drama the big skies that arch overhead are often awesome. As we drove up to Norfolk at the end of July the silvery tones of a dappled mackerel sky begged to be photographed. But we had a party to go to and no time to stop. The following day, disappointingly, the sky was a uniform grey and a little drizzly after overnight rain. Today’s photography was clearly going to be all about details and subjects to be found at ground level!
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I left you all at the stunning Kings College chapel. Now let’s continue our walk. From Kings we walked past the Old Schools which house the Cambridge University offices and formerly housed the Cambridge University Library.
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When I was a child my mother, despite being the most unreligious person I know, would always insist on listening to (and in later years watching) the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols from King’s on Christmas Eve. That pause for beautiful music amidst the frenetic preparations for the big day was as much part of our family’s Christmas traditions as Mum’s recipe for Christmas pudding and the Morecombe and Wise show in the evening.
