HNY

Happy New Year to all my readers.

I am full of hope for 2011. I hope for restraint by the world's more volatile states and equally by those who oppose or indeed provoke them.

For all the travels I have planned the true joy will be in my 33rd anniversary with the deeply loyal, loving and unswerving Greg.

Psychology In Action

Having been deprived of shops for, in some cases, up to 36 hours, humanity was on the move again today. A large part of it moved towards Gunwharf Quays. What is the draw of the sales? Personally I save money by not buying things. I do not save 20% on something I did not want in the first place; I save 100% by not buying it at all. Nor in the normal course of things do I feel the need to go to the same place as everyone else and at the same time. You might think me disingenuous here but Greg and I had a specific purpose in mind when we headed for Portsmouth and were at the beginning of a to-do list for the days off. With the Gunwharf car parking oversubscribed we came up with an ingenious plan. We drove to a Guildhall car park which had plenty of spaces and took the train between Portsmouth & Southsea and Portsmouth Harbour. Joining the crowds at Gunwharf was then painless. Greg was keen to buy some MBT shoes or, as they are styled 'anti-shoes'. They are supposed to offer a number of orthopaedic and other health benefits, are available in a range of styles encompassing formal and leisure and are a lot easier to get in Greg's size 9 than my size 12/13. It is interesting to note that there is absolutely no need to pay MBT's rather alarming retail prices. The sale prices in their outlet store were significantly lower and then further reduced by 20% to make them more comparable to some other shoes. Is any RRP ever credible these days?

The crowds precluded taking some of the photographs I had hoped for but I am perfectly happy to return at a less frenetic time. The popular eating places were predictably crowded but we went in Giraffe where service was very effectively managed. The food was good and reached the tables commendably fast considering the level of patronage.

Portsmouth itself looked pretty grim. Gunwharf is an improbable jewel in a much faded coronet. Portsmouth Harbour station is a building Southwest Trains and Network Rail should be ashamed of. Some refurbishment by contractor Osborne seems to be half-heartedly underway. The station contrasts in an extraordinary way with Portsmouth & Southsea although both are shabby. The terminus has no ticket barriers and on our arrival the ticket office was closed. Platform management is poor since the short sighted removal of track at Platform 2. Key trains are situated the maximum distance from the entrance. The area around Portsmouth & Southsea station, known locally as the Town Station, is appalling. One leaves the station to heavily littered streets and an urban desolation only the planners of the late 20th century could have wrought. The Guildhall Square and its environs are an architectural disaster compounded by neglect. The once glorious Guildhall which survived the Luftwaffe is overwhelmed by the banal ugliness of its surroundings. The desolation continues as one leaves the city via Fratton. There was much there to delight me in my youth and my father before me found comfort in the established familiarity of what went before today's wasteland of architectural incoherence.

When we left our car park to thread our way through the buildings to the station we trod where many times I trod with my late father. His heart was already broken by a Portsmouth disappeared. If his ghost watched us today it probably wept in quiet despair. How ironic that the nearby War Memorial should mark the fallen of a conflict won in the oppressive surroundings of a battle lost.

Latest Books

There is always a pile of James Patterson novels on my shelf waiting to be read along with other authors and genres. His work is prolific, his collaborations now many. 'Swimsuit' is one such collaboration with Maxine Paetro and the darkest Patterson I have read. I have long been sceptical about the extent of these literary relationships, with Patterson himself averring on a television interview two or three years ago that he is the major contributor to each. Personally, I doubt it but with a work like 'Swimsuit', it is a convenient arrangement either way. If the book is the product of a darker mind than his own then he still gets the more prominent billing on the cover and a presumably proportionate dollar stream. If the darkness comes from within then he benefits from the distraction of the second name on the cover to create doubt on the mind of loyal readers used to more frothy (if still compelling) fare. 'Swimsuit', for all that it is rather graphic is also very readable but I found fault with its rather hurried ending produced almost as if a limit had been reached in the number of pages.

Patterson's trademark short chapters and generously sized print are not replicated by the less well known but excellent John Birmingham. I doubt that the Australian would have become famous for the early and awkwardly titled 'He Died With A Felafel In His Hand' but the  'Weapons of Choice' trilogy , 'Designated Targets', and 'Final Impact', cemented his place in the affections of many, certainly mine. Modestly described as 'novels of alternate history', a favourite genre of mine, his works are more complex than that. I could use the 'techno thriller' epithet which also appears on his covers but, to entice you in to the bookshop, I would explain that the stories are of alternate history with quasi-sci-fi theme. Where doyen of alternate history, Harry Turtledove became increasingly laboured and self-indulgent after his masterly 'World War' series, Birmingham's prose continued now in 'Without Warning', which is in my hands and 'After America' which certainly will be, is far more targetted, pointfully terse and readable. In the early pages of 'Without Warning' which postulates a catastrophic event overwhelming the US on the eve of Gulf 2, I can not imagine not reaching the end as soon as possible and then hurrying back to Barnes & Noble in Palm Desert for the ironically named 'After America'.

Wave Goodbye To Christmas

We don't always get everything we want for Christmas and on the day conditions were largely unsuitable for photography. There was the slight itch of frustration on the back of my mind as I added to the mental list of things I wanted to photograph. I had regarded night shifts as the best of the non-leave options but, as they approached, regarded them as something of an irritation. Why is life sometimes so much about dissatisfaction when there is, in fact, so much to be satisfied with?

After a sociable but busy night shift I drove home in an intimidating temperature of minus 7.5 C which soared to minus 5 by the time I got home. Perhaps the gulfstream had made it past the Isle of Wight. It was soon a day sunnier than any recent day but some sleep was inevitable so we left the house later for an early lunch and walked around Lee in further increased temperatures. At last the light said 'photography' and that mental list got reduced by a bit.

I thoroughly enjoyed ITV's latest version of 'Murder on the Orient Express'. It is not often you get murdered by 12 people unless you're the Australian cricket team facing England and Grant Flower. That one's for you Rob.......

I was feeling pleasingly calm after a health scare last night. Suffice it to say I had found unexplained lumps but a telephone consultation had put my mind at rest. When Greg was a medical student, I went through his books with him and learned what is sometimes a little too much. I have inherited from my Mum a tendency to worry irrationally about the tiniest aspect of my health. Put these two things together and logic is often overwhelmed. You might say (if you are well read) that 'reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated' - in this case, by me.

My brother will travel to Peru tomorrow to see his wife. I am glad that Greg is no further away than the settee. 2011 is full of hope; I hope it brings wonderful things for all of you.

The Queen's Christmas Message

To my surprise and perhaps a little secret pleasure, some colleagues had noted that I have not written in a few days. That is, frankly, because I have not been especially emotional, either up or down in that period. I am usually at my most garrulous or effusive (neither of which adjective I suspect strictly applies to the WRITTEN word) when I have been particularly affected by something good or bad. Instead, I have settled rather comfortably into a new level of contentment unexpected in someone who seems more usually to need something to worry about.

The day saw more sunshine than we have seen in a long while and it inevitably cheered. I am trying to resist the temptation to book something which will take us away to guaranteed sun when we have in fact two expensive holidays already booked. I can not deny that some aspects of work have recently been rather testing but this cycle, and today in particular, things seemed to come together; perhaps it was just the Ferrero Rocher but I would like to think it was, in part, the successful application of whatever sometimes invisble skills I might have.

I had a routine visit to the doctor which I found very soothing. I am managed for my history of kidney stones and hypertension but I like to imagine that my GP who is in fact the best one could imagine, will magically detect anything that is seriously wrong with me simply by being in the same room and taking my blood pressure.

Liberated from snow and ice in our area at least, cars took to the lunchtime roads in numbers. There was a numb sense of urgency about their hurried movements all hoping to catch a last something, reach a last somewhere. Making slower than usual progress amogst them and towards work, I simply smiled where usually I might mutter or snarl. I might smile for a few days longer and embrace 2011 as a new friend. In the meantime I shall treasure Christmas lunch with my boyfriend and mother and the friends I already have.

ASDA Second Chance

Recognising that we are not quite prepared for Christmas and anticpating a lull in the shopping madness, we decided to return to ASDA after dinner. That was not quite late enough for the place to be really quiet but it was early enough to avoid shelves stripped bare. That was the trend when we arrived with stacking failing to keep pace with purchases. The filling station was still closed. I learned that they ran out yesterday afternoon and do not expect a delivery until tomorrow morning. I am told that deliveries are governed by the supplier which I believe to be Texaco. If I were as big as ASDA-Walmart I would be doing the telling. Amongst erratically stocked shelves the dislay of the exact dessert we wanted to buy was an inexplicably sticky mess. We took the least sticky box. I noted that many items were dated 24 December or earlier. This I imagine is a deliberate ploy to keep people coming in for a few more days and I did not appreciate it. I wanted to complain to a manager but they were, predictably, keeping a low profile. This is common in large companies to the extent that it is impossible to guess what they do or indeed manage. I doubt that Eurostar, Network Rail, BA or BAA managers are much in evidence to stranded travellers.

Havant A Chance

Havant is a shabby place. I can say that because I come from there, return occasionally, more frequently indeed than I should naturally like and because it is. In the post-ice apocalypse, the semi-cleared surfaces only added to the mean appearance of a meanly run town. Havant is a corpse which has not been buried, its few remains rotting slowly for all to see. Those that feed on the corpse still are understandably undernourished. Reconstruction is not for Havant; it is a dying, living proof that there is no afterlife. A heyday of sorts began in the late 60s but that construction is now falling progressively before the onslaught of demolition and closure to be replaced only slowly or not at all.

The mean-minded operation of a key but rarely manned car-park, a potentially useful multi-storey, demonstrates as much as anything the architectural and adminstrative sulkiness of this ex-town. It routinely closes at 6pm for no obvious reason other than to deprive a trickle of restaurant and pub goers (Havant does not do late-night shopping) of useful covered spaces. Over Christmas and New Year there will be two long closures of 4 and 3 consecutive days. This year in particular people might have appreciated spaces protected from the elements. It won't be one of their presents.

The neglected pavements required careful passage to reach a MacDonalds which was serving as slowly as the last time I snarled under my breath at it; perhaps even serving some of the same people. It is extraordinary that, challenged with no more difficult task than churning out a limited number of pre-defined breakfast items, they should do so quite so lethargically. I was on a solo shopping expedition as Greg was indoors nursing a cold which my immune system (touch wood) seems already to have beaten. Deeply frustrated by the crushing gloom of all three days off, I was trying hard not to drown in my unique brand of self-pity as it became incresingly clear that I would not pointfully be able to go farther afield. Tomorrow, the solstice will cry out to my heart and I shall feast on every extra minute of daylight.

With tasks at Mum's behind me I set off in the general direction of home with further stops planned. ASDA filling station was inexplicably closed having recently twice run out of diesel. As we are not in Inverness I waited at the customer service desk to find out why. I would also be able to ask, I thought, why their postbox was completely full. It was actually impossible to insert a single item more. I think the two women on the desk were moving but it was difficult to tell until one decided, in spite of a growing queue, to go to lunch. She moved then; so did I. I gave up. There was, of course, after a weather related part-hiatus over the weekend, the mandatory panic buying in progress. ASDA, after all, like Tesco is closed for as much as 24hrs over the holiday.

Wanting to be assured, at least from the fuel point of view, of getting to and from work over the next few days, I went round to Shell, Stubbington to find that they had no diesel. I made the unusual decision to fill with their outrageously priced V-Power diesel at 10p a litre premium but made very clear my displeasure at having to do so. I imagine Alex Ferguson's hairdryer blows cool compared to mine. Even on a normal day there is absolutely NO justification for a premium of this size for a product of dubious scientific credentials. The V-Power pump had been mysteriously returned to service 'only minutes earlier', whilst the others remain unsupplied due to a pump problem at the refinery which apparently has lasted for four days. At times like this I wonder if it is possible to do anything legal which might be impressive enough to 'encourager les autres'.

By now the weather had turned to heavy rain so my inevitable thought as I turned towards a usable postbox and home was 'we're fucked if that freezes tonight'. Happy holidays everyone.

Variations On A Theme Of Grey

It is not exactly a wasteland but it is a form of devastation. The ice clings to the pavements and some roads and you imagine it might never leave. The cold is deep and damp and winter, you can so easily believe, will be here forever and without relent. I looked to the sky in hope, for hope. Surely the BBC weather had forecast some sun? The sky stared back without pity and wanted to crush the last vestiges of optimism. The part of me that wanted to go out and defy the lack of light to take photographs fought with the part of me that wanted to curl up and sleep, perhaps forever. There were, in fact, variations in the grey as the slightest teasing hints of something better blew from the north. But the sky would have its victory and even as I mentally dressed to leave the house, more grainy if somewhat desultory snow fell and sucked anticpation from the air.

If hope was indeed gone with the wind then tomorrow would have to be another day, a day to wake with new hopes, a day to start again. It would be a final day off before being returned to a cauldron of struggling airports with their dejected, displaced crowds wondering if some fragment of their own hopes might be rescued. I can play my own small unseen part in righting a capsized Christmas for as many of them as possible.

I let lunchtime pass and the snow continued. It was of little physical significance but greater psychological importance. I surrendered my body to staying in the house and my mind to a happier place on another day.

Defense Spending Reviews

On the last day of the Harrier, I offer

A Portrait of Defense Spending Reviews - Past and Present

When Defense Is Indefensible

The lead story in The Times of Tuesday 14 December has to be read to be believed. On pages 1 and 6-8 the paper reveals contents of a report by Deloitte on incompetence, ineptitude and profligacy in the MoD on a scale almost too large to grasp. Ten key and equally disastrous projects are enumerated. These are Nimrod MRA4, QEC aircraft carriers, Chinook Mk3, FSTA, FRES, Landing Ship Dock, Eurofighter Typhoon, Astute nuclear subs, Type 45 destroyers and A400M.

It is impossible to reproduce the article here but I hope you will want to see for yourself even if you need to use the Times online service which, scandalously, they charge for. Our service personnel struggle in far-flung combat zones for lack of appropriate equipment and, occasionally, supply whilst the most appalling decisions are made by politicians, civil servants and industry here in the UK, in Europe and in the USA.

The government (and previous governments), the MoD (past and present), contractors and suppliers must all be held to account. They must be made to explain how a toxic mix of incompetence, dithering, political expedience and greed led us to where we are today.

Park Life

Firstly I would like to congratulate our local authority (presumably in conjunction) with developers Persimmon, on opening the nearby playground, which has been ready since around May, in mid-December. To be fair, they have opened it on a mild weekend between protracted periods of arctic chill. I would now like some assistance with noise insulation so that I can not hear the little darlings in their breaks between nativity plays and carol concerts.

I am shocked to learn of Tesco's and ASDA's holiday opening hours. I am not exactly the last of the Tolpuddle Martyrs but I do feel that these bastions of arch-commerciality could reasonably close for two days. Instead, both are closed only on Christmas Day. I find this unnecessary and extraordinary. The thing is, in the week before Christmas, the shops will be filled with people buying as though they were closed for the rest of the year, so the short closure benefits neither customers nor staff. This, I believe, is an experiment. I hope it fails and that, in future years, shop workers are given a decent break.

My Day and Theirs

Some days the sky wants to suck the soul from you and today it came close but was not allowed to prevail. Early sunshine looked promising but a commensurately early departure from the house on a joyous third day off was not quick enough to escape the cloud rolling in from the west. I was determined to enjoy myself though and I did. We went first to Winchester. I had read that development plans for Stagecoach's aging garage within the bus station mean that preserved vehicles of Friends of King Alfred Buses (FoKAB) will be displaced. I hoped to see them but they are securely concealed in one half of the garage building. Nevertheless, I found that the slightly dilpidated bus station and garage exuded character and history.
I enjoyed several other aspects of the city too. Although the sun made sporadic and cheering appearances, a combination of cold and damp was pretty penetrating.


Undeterred, we went on to Ropley for the Mid-Hants Railway depot and station. There was no running today but I got several satisfactory photographs. It was very evident that snow and ice have not cleared in the middle of the county as they have closer to the coast. The Alton station car park has been poorly cleared and remained icy today. We went to Alton as somewhere I don't think I have been before. It is a fairly bland town but the experience was not unpleasant. We chose Prezzo for lunch, a chain, but one which provides excellent food. Our antipasto starter lifted the spirits. My main course of polpette was full of flavour and generously sized. I could not manage a dessert and asked for Honeycomb Smash Cheesecake to be boxed. It was not actually that long before I ate it and it was excellent. I consumed it to the Radio 5 accompaniment of Simon Amstell guesting with Richard Bacon. Amstell is brilliant (as well as very cute) and, being a Jewish man, I doubt he has ever before spent so much time in a room with Bacon. The Radio 5 presenter is currently known for Sky's 'Beer and Pizza Club', a programme which has a surprising charm accounted for in large part by Bacon himself. À propos of nothing, I nominated (in my own mind) my three favourite comedy programmes of 2010 today. I am afraid the psycho-whimsical 'Grandma's House' did not make the list which, in no particular order, includes 'Miranda', 'The Armstrong and Miller Show' and 'The Inbetweeners'.


Less amusing students were on the streets of London today in the latest protests against rises in university fees which were, inevitably, voted through today albeit by a precarious majority. What is not clearly understood by the opponents of increases in reciting their mantra of 'free' education is that it is not and can not be free. The issue is not one of whether it is paid for but at what stage of the social and educational chain and by whom. The small number of troublemakers are ill advised to make themselves known to the police and could find themselves 'rusticated' as some establishments term it. I also find the actions of the police on these occasions less than helpful. I think a lot of them like a good ruck.

Some Thoughts About Food and Railways

Much though I enjoy my days off, I rarely want to fill all four to the extent that I return to work exhausted. This then was the day in these four for rationed activities. There was little incentive to stay out in the cold and grey and every incentive to stay in during the afternoon with my new haircut, new magazines, a full stomach and a blanket round my legs. We had been to Fareham and then to the Abbey Garden Centre where lunch was very good and deserved praise. They have devised a series of filled baps (turkey in my case) with garnish and the whole was generously filled, tasty and good value. Whilst I have no complaints about my privileged life, it may yet be that the garden birds occasionally eat better than us. They gained £82 worth of food today and it will be used carefully as it is evident from experience that, if we emptied our 12.5Kg sack of peanuts, the pigeons and some of the other large birds would simply eat them there and then. On this occasion we did not buy worms - does anybody know why they are so expensive?

The afternoon and evening afforded opportunities to peruse Railways Illustrated, a good magazine which would benefit from improved proof reading. I read two or three railway magazines a month for entertainment and information. The contents allow me to formulate better notes for my photographs as well as furnishing ideas for subjects. It seems to me (perhaps my memory is clouded) that stock movements are far more volatile than they used to be. Under TOPS, which has been with us now for more than 40 years, many changes require renumbering which, frankly, frequently annoys me. London Overground Class 378s have hardly been in service as 3-car units and are now being renumbered as fourth cars are added.

In preservation, my views on identity changes are well known. In a particularly bad and avoidable example Class 11 12082 is to move to Mid-Hants Railway and be renumbered as 12049 the shunter lost in the 2010 fire at Ropley. So wrong; right to replace the rare loco, completely wrong to renumber. Wrong, pointless, annoying, wrong. In an even more extraordinary development a group has for some reason decided that we can not live without a Class 23 Baby Deltic. None was preserved after 1977 so, bizarrely, they have decided to build one FROM A 37! If ever there was a cause for the use of WTF? WTF? This is a ridiculous and pointless idea which I do not support.

Fortunately my motive power motivated dyspepsia did not spoil my enjoyment of my ASDA Thai Green Curry. Another success for the often maligned green supermarket. I have suspended the use of their card (as has a special friend of mine) after an outbreak of ineptitude by new provider Santander. Their food, however, continues to offer many delights and surprises.

A Day

Perhaps it helped that I had looked forward to these days off with some relish. It probably also helped that I was in Hampshire and not Scotland. This meant that I had slept in my beautiful home and not in my car. This meant also that I was able to stay in my pyjamas as long as I pleased. I probably would not have had them in my car although, during the 'recent unpleasantness' (as a US historian might term it), I was well prepared. The day dawned clear but, unsurprisingly, very cold. We went to do Mum's shopping. She has been unwell but cooked a fish pie for lunch which betrayed no loss of culinary energy or ability.

We went to Southampton where the cruise ship season is continuing later than last year. I was pleased to see and photograph 'Balmoral' and to be able to compare it to the much smaller 'Saga Pearl 2'. Millbrook Freightliner is another matter altogether and I still have not worked out how I shall photograph Class 66s there. Any excursion at this time of year is a battle against failing light but today we were fairly lucky. Leaving Southampton, as we had arrived, via the M271, I got Greg to drive me to Adanac Park, site of the new Ordnance Survey headquarters. That produced photographs of both general and architectural interest. Light did not matter for our next stop at Rownhams (services) where we made substantial gains on the machines. This was a bit of a lift for Greg who made me smile several times today just by being.

I cannot decide whether Julian Assange is a force for good or evil but I would say, on the balance of probability, that he is being well and truly stitched up by one or more governments; I doubt that the charges against him have any substance but they have got him off the streets. Time will tell. Wouldn't it be nice though if governments and corporations were more open and honest instead of spending 99% of the time grubbing around in the shadows? We have had about 5-6000 years of various forms of civilisation but, in those millennia, very little in human relationships has changed. If there is a God I imagine he's gone off somewhere to start another universe.

No Favours

To enter the sixth day of a cycle always imbues me with a certain sense of optimism for the days ahead. The weather continues to keep us in a state of uncertainty. The clearance (in our area) of the snow by wind and rain was, for this part of the world, a remarkably swift change but, overall, the cold has persisted and was the dominant feature of today. There was sunshine too as fog failed to cling to the day. I have great if vague hopes for the days off and my next leave is close enough to be a filip in itself. This morning, we went to Sainsbury's recently re-opened Broadcut (Fareham) store not because we like to go further than we need to shop but because we thought we should give it a look and because only Sainsbury's has our preferred mineral water. The new exterior is less than attractive and certainly not imaginative.

Inside, a better ambience than I expected has been achieved but it is evident that the powerful supermarket will be giving nothing away before Christmas. It was notable that milk is once again a ridiculous price this seeming more than anything to vary wildly throughout the year. I could not help an envious glance towards the Luckett's yard. I have approval in principle to photograph there but our recent communication has petered out. I am feeling very pleased that a number of my 1975 and 1980s Trident photographs are soon to appear on a new website. As I now am one of the oldest people where I work there will be many there who have little or no idea what a Trident is/was. I hope they enjoy my pictures.

Redundant Hyperbole

After an hour of effusive commentary by the undoubtedly incisive and usually relevant Simon Schama, I am left as unconvinced of the worth of Mark Rothko's work as I was ignorant of it prior to tonights programme on Sky Arts 2. Comparisons with Rembrandt and Turner, especially Turner, master of light, were frivolous and misguided. In another age, with another presenter, I might have imagined Schama's stream of redundant hyperbole to be born of a cannabis or LSD haze. How else would one see in Rothko's repetitive repertoire that which is not obviously there.

Perhaps it is a reflection of my own darkness which only occasionally (I hope) reaches the surface that the artist's later works, produced as alcohol and tobaccco drained his life, were the ones which gave me pause where earlier pieces including the series intended for (but never shown at) The Four Seasons did not.

I feel I could sit in the Houston Chapel and think something without becoming a fan. There is always room for doubt in any life. Doubt is one of many paths to compromise.

Reality Bites

Overnight, the weather which has afflicted the rest of the country for several days reached our area. Conditions were appalling but nothing like January of this year when preparedness was much less obvious. It was a mixed bag though. A surprising six inches or more had fallen before I left the house in a car carrying provisions for various eventualities. I chose a safe route to work and was initially encouraged by the clearance which had taken place. Once again though the A27 in Fareham had received less attention that it should have. Key areas such as Titchfield gyratory were not the disaster areas they had been 11 months ago but my safe climb of Swanwick Lane was not emulated by those who followed. Abandoned cars led to road closures and those added to the stress of assessing the viability of a journey home. People had made substantial efforts to reach work, many walking the whole or part of their journeys. Some would stay in the area overnight to ensure that if air traffic was affected by weather it would not be additionally affected by staff shortages.

In the event road traffic was down to about 10-15% of normal and my departure after a busy morning on Heathrow led to an uneventful if careful journey on roads which had been further cleared. Snow continued to fall albeit lightly and it was disappointing to find ASDA petrol closed. The postman had not been and I can't say I blame him as our estate roads were an icy nightmare. The same ice will presumably keep the dustmen (refuse disposal operatives) away tomorrow. The scenery screamed 'photography' but ones senses screamed 'keep the car moving and your feet dry' so I took a handful of pictures at work and published only one.

The weather forecast is, to say the least of it, fluid and unreliable but it is due to get warmer and rain. The question is, will we get more of this in the remaining winter?

A Winter's Tale (2)

Any bright periods today were meteorological flattery. It was predominantly grey and cold with snow showers. Snow granules were a hindrance as several new images caught my eye at Gunwharf Quays. I like the complex very much - it has grown on me. I am not very keen on shops but the eating opportunities are many (even though we only ate in the Spinnaker Cafe today) and there is a great deal to see both in and from the area. I took some shots I hope to repeat in brighter weather but it will be difficult to return before Christmas and avoid the building crowds.

Ark Royal will make her sad return to Portsmouth on December 3rd but I don't know whether it will be sensible to go near the harbour on either side.

I am not expecting a repeat of January's weather - at least not this time - but I was gratified to see in action the preparedness of Hampshire County Council as they put some of the promised grit bins in place in Lee on the Solent.

The Resting Place of Greats

We left Heathrow in a slow dawn, the light reluctant. I hadn't the spirit to remain in the area in the deep cold and sought instead the comfort of my home. Photography would be limited and was affected later by the brightness of a low sun.

However, in my mind, I have a moving image from the BA maintenance area where B757 G-CPEM and Concorde G-BOAB sandwiched a third aircraft I could not identify whilst driving. The 757 and Concorde were very different stalwarts of British Airways over similar eras and I think I shall miss them both.

London

Rarely these days do I greatly enjoy a trip to London but today was an exception. It was deeply cold but bright and the light held to allow photography to continue later than I had expected. I often feel a sort of mild desperation at this time of year. The season sucks the time from the days as time itself sucks the days from ones life. On a winters day or in life, you sometimes think you might not get everything done. Does anyone want to die with regrets? Anyway, there were no regrets today but there was some sadness.

We left Bexleyheath at our leisure. Hotel service overall had lacked attention to detail. we were compensated with reductions to our bill. Breakfast had been very good. You can't beat a good waffle (as anyone who has ever been to a Conservative Party Conference will tell you). Dipped in fried egg and maple syrup, it may well be the food the gods overlooked when they raved about ambrosia. We crossed the Thames at Dartford to enter London via the startlingly barren eastern approach. The A13 is not much of an advertisement for anything but certainly does make a case for urban regeneration. I was sidetracked by the sight of Dagenham Freightliner depot and got some rather awkward photographs. The buses I saw today were in rather secure compounds. We managed a long drive-by of the Olympic site but that does not easily lend itself to photography. I can not help but wonder what athletes, officials and freeloaders will think as they approach the site unless they are funnelled along very carefully regenerated routes. The eye of the photographer reveals east London and the City to be a very cluttered place for all that it is vibrant. Subjects are not easily captured. It was (almost) a pleasure to drive across London on a Sunday and we parked free very near Tate Britain. We took out a year's membership which I am certain will be repaid as special exhibitions are not cheap.

As a photographer, it is perhaps surprising, maybe even a little depressing that I am not much gripped by the history of the art. We went to Tate Britain for the Muybridge exhibition. We have moved on so far in the barely 150 year history of photography that I did not find very interesting the bulk of his work which was, to be fair, incredibly advanced at the time. I did enjoy the panoramas of San Francisco. Rachel Whiteread's drawings were largely a mystery to me. She should have kept them to herself as I do not believe they add anything to her better known work. I say this with some difficulty because I could neither name nor recognise a sculpture of hers but the drawings ranged from naive to futile.

A more satisfying experience altogether lay in the restaurant. The food was overpriced but indisputably excellent. The 12.5% service charge was impudent but tolerable. A salad of beetroot, watercress and goats cheese was perfect and Greg admired his parsnip soup with white truffle froth. We had very different main courses but received similar satisfaction. My raviolo (it was indeed singular) of butternut squash with black cabbage and pumpkin velouté was flawless whilst Greg's essentially traditional roast beef lunch featured  a generous portion of beautifully cooked meat. Whilst portions were by no means mean it was not solely greed which encouraged a dessert. My sticky toffee pudding had some slightly worrying textures in its fruit but sat well with its caramel sauce and vanilla ice cream. Greg's cheddar was, well, cheddary.

When a day is not gripped by all too common grey cloud, the sun is in fact fairly high still at 2.30 and 3pm. Thus it was in my favour as we visited West Drayton before continuing to the Heathrow Renaissance. My former works place now lies half demolished and soon enough, yet more flats and houses will arise. What their occupants will think of their proximity to the less salubrious areas of West Drayton, I do not know. For today, it was rather sad to stare into the guts of a building where I spent so much time. Barely two miles away in a straight line, the newborn balances the departed. At Heathrow East substantial steelwork is now in place. I hope for a better look tomorrow but I still doubt the entire development will be ready for the Olympics.

A Winters Tale

Outside it is beautifully sunny but extremely cold. The temperature tips it in favour of staying indoors to recover from a pleasant but long night duty - with another ahead. For the night past I had to make no traffic management decisions; the night ahead could be different.

I am intoxicated by the smell of the free car air freshener which came with my new MCR album. There is a sort of new furniture/new car thing going on or perhaps it is just the smell of Gerard Way's leather trousers. My nose is captivated. I am less entranced so far with the album, 'Danger Days; The Trues Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys'. It is a concept album which is easy to understand on Wikipedia and a bit less easy to follow on a first listen but I believe it will grow on me. How could a group follow the masterly 'Black Parade'? Waiting in the wings are, belatedly, 'Plastic Beach' by Gorillaz and, eclectically, 'Dreams', the new album of covers from Neil Diamond. Sometimes, I wish my journey to work were longer but only by, say, one or two tracks.

From that insight into my car CD changer, I take you to my bookshelf and indeed my downstairs toilet. In the latter I am finishing 'The Secret Speech' by Tom Rob Smith. It is the sequel to the remarkable debut  'Child 44' and I can tell you all you need to know by saying I am looking forward to a third offering. Equally excellent but entirely different is Michael Crichton's 'Pirate Latitudes'. Discovered and published after his premature death it is a fast paced tale which defines the epithet 'page turner'. The extraordinary thing about Crichton's books was or is that they are all so different to the extent that there is no genre. Whilst the quality and style remain the same the subject matter is enormously varied. I have read many of his books and never been disappointed.

We need something to drag us psychologically from the descent into winter and Greg, with daily pain from his head, needs it more than I. We have booked a June cruise on an itinerary which has become increasingly attractive to us. Sailing from and to Southampton is appealing in itself as we confirmed earlier this year. A compact but interesting Norwegian itinerary (Stavanger, Flåm, Olden, Bergen) should be ideal. I am looking forward to it very much. In fact I am looking forward to 2011 and, beyond that, 19 November 2014.

Electrical Retailers and Icy Winds

If only because I have written little recently I thought I should compose a few words today but I doubt that the world has missed me. I have been concentrating on my Flickr photostream but even that has not received much input as work and weather stifle creativity. Today, after some other activities, I took more photographs of Bus Rapid Transit where progress is impressive. I cannot imagine working on such a site all day on a day like this. The first part of the afternoon was viciously cold and my hands could not have operated a camera effectively for much longer than they did. This was a disappointing pointer for the weekend when I have a long excursion to London planned for some as yet not very well planned photography. There is only so much one can do outside in this weather. I hope my friends in America on both coasts have something better for Thanksgiving. I do not pray to a regognised god but I was very grateful to return to a warm, clean, home after a delicious and filling lunch. I hope all my readers are thankful for their blessings.

We bought a spare television for my Mum today. There is something electrical retailers have not learned. If they are going to sell you a TV for £200, you don't want some pointless warranty for half that again. You already have your regular consumer rights and if it breaks after that you just buy another one. Still, they only ask half-heartedly now so maybe it is sinking in.

S.A.D

It is many years since I confirmed definitively and through personal experience, the existence of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). This is a difficult time of the year to lift oneself and today was a very good example of a day on which it is difficult to do so.

I wish I could rely more on the BBC weather forecast. The presentations on both news channels and online are ludicrously inaccurate and volatile. On bbc.co.uk the weather is tuned to my postcode and shows supposedly a 72hr forecast. This invariably changes within the 72 hrs displayed at any given moment and frequently within the first 24hrs of that period. What happens in reality is another thing altogether. When a TV forecaster tells you on a Friday night what is going to happen next Friday it is laughable. This is padding in a broadcast which cannot be relied on for even 48hrs; they have absolutely no idea what will happen in one week.

It is not possible then to plan with confidence for activity or inertia. For one who values both personal comfort and photographic opportunities this is a critical deficiency. When the highlight of a day is to brave the weekend crowds at ASDA, it is not a day which will fill much of a page in a diary. Inevitably, the psycho-adrenalin of a wonderful holiday ebbs and the next seems far away. To have the sunshine taken from your life as is almost daily in the monotonous monochrome of northern hemisphere winter is to have slivers pared from your soul. The days are skewed so that if you choose to start slowly the day sweeps by you and, as your spirits lift to something approaching motivation, the dusk of another long night veils hope and happiness.

There are of course indoor activities but I am not inclined to watch TV or even stay online for pointless hours. I should say though that I am grateful for many things; the eternal and comforting presence of my boyfriend, the existence of my very special friends however distant, the privileges of my everyday life and the prospect of the next holiday. So for now I am SADdenned but it will take more than December to extinguish my light.

24 Hours

Like a scene from a Harry Potter movie, the night's mist wrapped itself around familiar scenery and dreamt of being fog. By morning, its dream had come true. The night saw very little rest as we ensured that a TMA cloaked in autumn was a safe place to fly and land. I had written to-do lists for both nights and felt apprehensive about my workload but the dawn saw only one item remaining to be done. The second night would be far more comfortable.

Even on a busy night there is time to dip into Flickr. My stats are fascinating (to me). What people will view is quite unpredictable. My work has now been viewed more than 19,000 times which indicates a modest level of internet fame but the web remains a scary place. I often wonder why people have viewed some images and from where. There are hidden depths in the title 'Unknown Source'. My recent entirely documentary photograph of a Nissan Cube has attracted an inexplicable number of views whilst my more recent 'Poppies' - (The Luminescence of Those Remembered) has made a slow start. There is still more work undone and missed. There were three opportunities with various subjects missed before Monday's unexpected chance to photograph fire engines (for contacts more than myself). One missed opportunity I particularly regret as it can recur, if at all, only on Remembrance Sunday.

In the morning autumn frost and fog were a stark vanguard of a winter which might again be harsh. I paused to take some workplace pictures and spray the car. On the other side of a partially restorative sleep bright sunshine made my area a very pleasant place to be for lunch. True, the fog clung late to the Solent but succumbed in the couple of hours we were out. Monk's Hill shone in more photographs and the sun lulled me into my second sleep which would last into the inevitable early darkness which marks this time of year.

PS 'Miranda' - new series - Brilliant

Horse Play

"Horse Play" (or, "Released on Bale" or, again, "Graze Elegy")

Horse #1: 'Morning'

Horse #2: 'Morning'

Horse #1: 'Been doing much?'

Horse #2: 'Grazing'

Horse #1: 'Me too, grazing'

Horse #2: 'Humans came yesterday...'

Horse #1: (feigning interest) 'Oh yes?'

Horse #2: '.......put this coat on me'

Horse #1: 'Supposed to keep us warm'

Horse #2: 'I don't like the colour. It isn't really 'me''

Horse #2: 'They left hay too.....'

Horse #1: 'Makes a change from grass'

Horse #2: (miserably) 'It doesn't last very long'

Horse #1: 'Funny things, humans'

Horse #2: 'Yeah'

Horse #1: 'Sometimes......'

Horse #1: '........when I see them coming, I have a little canter around. It makes them smile'

Horse #1: 'Sometimes they take a photograph'

Horse #1: 'Frankly though I'd rather be over in that corner with Imelda'

Horse #1: 'Nuzzling.......'

Horse #2: 'I know......'

Horse #2: (wistfully) 'Can't say I blame you. You're lucky you saw her first'

Horse #1: (smiling) 'Yeah, you should come over, have a chat'

Horse #2: (after a pause) 'Oh, thanks......I will'

Horse #2: 'Ah well, back to the hay, (miserably again).........while it lasts'

Horse #1: 'Yeah'

(Both pause awkwardly)

Horse #2: 'What do you reckon for tomorrow then?'

Horse #2: (hopefully) 'More hay?'

Horse #1: 'Nah. Not for a while'

Horse #2: (sighing) 'More grazing then.......'

Horse #1: (walking slowly away) 'Yeah, more grazing'

(Both lower heads, backs to each other and ....... graze)

Back On Planet Earth

The rain and wind had gone. It was still very cold but the sunshine made it a beautiful day. I photographed Bus Rapid Transit again and recorded recent progress. It was very evident that fuel prices have gone up in our absence presumably due to a combination of the most recent application of the fuel escalator, the government's not very well hidden method of collecting even more VAT, and the usual exploitation of such events by both oil companies and retailers. During the holiday, a much greater personal tragedy had transpired. My tax disc holder had finally lost its adhesion and for more than 24hrs I ran the huge risk of not displaying it properly in a country where many people care deeply about such things. Imagine my delight when I was able to replace it with Halford's VALUE disc holder at only £1.99 (a piece of plastic worth perhaps as much as 10p) so that I did not need to spend over £10 on something magnetic with a logo which only the passenger will ever see.

At work - an extra attendance to avoid being overwhelmed by admin tomorrow - the lunch was Wild Boer (sic) sausages. Given that the chef is a (very amiable) South African I could only speculate during mastication as to the contents. I thought it best to skip the Jamaican Ginger Cake. Before I left, I photographed the beautiful grounds at Swanwick which I hope to capture at different times of the year.

On television, or at least on HDD, we have been catching up with, primarily, comedy and panel shows. The Armstrong and Miller Show is absolutely excellent surpassing the previous series. I also have a developing enjoyment of A League of Their Own. Although I have no instinctive liking for James Corden, I think he is very good in this role. Perhaps the winter will be warmer than expected.

In Limbo With A Smile

It was naturally rather emotional leaving Palm Springs yesterday after a very enjoyable holiday but we have the enormous good fortune (for which I am very grateful) to be able to return in March. On that trip we shall spend some more time in San Diego. There was in fact quite a lot of cloud as we made our way out of the desert. We later learned that it had deposited heavy rain on our friends who had left earlier. As we approached Los Angeles, however, it developed into a lovely day. I had decided to leave PS a little earlier than originally planned in order to be able to stop at the Proud Bird. I have passed it many times but usually under pressure to return our rental car. Today, a very smooth drive to LA on the decaying I10 left us with plenty of time for lunch at the restaurant and for me to photograph the exhibits. It is also a great place to take approach shots with ground/air exposures as easy as they get although I need more practice. The icing on the cake was some wrecks in a back lot.

Service at Hertz was in marked contrast to our arrival experience. We were offered a ride to the airport in our rental car instead of the shuttle. It was innovative customer service and very relaxing. Check in at BA was very cheery and there is no longer any need to take luggage separately to TSA. There was absolutely no queue at security and the personnel were noticeably more courteous. The lounge was the usual haven and I got a lot done during the wait. Departure was a bit late after delayed boarding but the flight time seemed likely to get us in on time. Service on board was fairly attentive and I got plenty of sleep. Ten minutes or so of holding at BNN was mitigated by a very smooth passage through T5. IRIS worked to spec. and baggage was delivered quickly. A short walk to and through the car park brought us back to our car and into the stark weather. This was not Palm Springs. It was cold, wet and windy and grew dark early. Our cleaner had left the house in good order and the post contained no surprises. ASDA featured seasonal goods - de-icer and screenwash.

The Holiday Draws To A Close

Yesterday we went to the exhibition park of Palm Springs Gay Pride. It was dull and parochial and we left quickly. A friend described it as 'lame'. The rest of the day was about ill-advised overeating. We had lunch at Las Casuelas, a Mexican restaurant and somewhat of a Palm Springs institution. The place has a considerable capacity. We were seated quickly, served charmingly and quickly and the food was good. We went to nearby Cold Stone for ice cream which was delicious and completely unnecessary. We did all this in spite of having dinner booked at Wangs In The Desert at the not particularly late hour of 7.45. We arrived early to a busy restaurant but were seated immediately. The main impression was one of massive and intrusive noise. It was only conversations but made ones own virtually impossible. Service was remarkably efficient, attentive and accurate. Wangs serves mixed oriental rather than strictly speaking Chinese. The food was good but many elements were essentially unremarkable. Coconut shrimp could have been much more exciting and its accompanying 'aioli' was pink gloop. Once again defeated by quantity we left without dessert.

Today, Sunday, was bound to involve an undercurrent of regret and tension as it was our last day in the desert this time. We thought we might go to the aerial tramway with our friends but had agreed to go to the start point of the Palm Springs Gay Pride Parade first. A strong sun, whose effect was magnified by the clock change, needed to be periodically avoided by ducking in and out of available shadow. Quite unlike the park yesterday the parade was vibrant and very well organised. Various types of police were in attendance and others participated. Roads were re-opened swiftly and it was all very enjoyable. Our interest went on late enough to make it pointless to go up the mountain. Crowds would obviously linger in Palm Springs so we walked back to the hotel and then drove to Rancho Mirage for The Cheesecake Factory whose vast menu is not at all reflected in its name. Food there is very good but portions are, frankly, ridiculously large and even Americans think so. Service was once again excellent. It remained only to allow the afternoon and evening to drift away before printing our boarding passes. Strong winds should see us cross the Atlantic in plenty of time for 30mins holding at BNN.

Tormé's Restaurant, Palm Springs

As we have guests for the weekend, we have a series of meals planned and, with PS Gay Pride this weekend, the bookings to go with them. There was never going to be a problem then getting a seat at Tormé's, 360 N Palm Canyon Drive. I should have been more alert when Greg pointed out that the customer nearest the entrance on the outside patio was smoking and eating at the same time. She was eating meatloaf (which I do not dislike in a proper setting) and perhaps needed a cigarette to heighten her gourmet experience. I suspect that the meatloaf and chicken pot pie might have been on the menu for the people who could not afford the other items. The greeter was superficially decorative (if you like women teetering on heels entirely inappropriate for a night's work or at least work which involves walking around as opposed to, say, lying down) but essentially irrelevant as her primary role seemed to be to walk one inside to greeter #2 who had the table plan. She evidently could not visualise the four letter surname in which we had booked (mine) so led us mutely to her colleague.

I should have been considerably more alert when the waitress asked me if I wanted my pork chop medum or well cooked. I explained with only a modicum of sharpness that anything other than well cooked pork would probably see me hospitalised. Having already trodden on a cactus I could see no reason to add to my adventures for the sake of two extra minutes in the kitchen. It is perhaps hard to believe then that, when it arrived, my chop was indeed underdone, visibly pink even in the low restaurant light. I was provided with another by an apologetic chef. Neither plate had the roast potatoes I had ordered but then this was a waitress who thought I had said 'ice cream' when I ordered lemon and white chocolate cake - the one dessert item they did not have. Although the food including that of my three companions was good there was too much distraction and irritation throughout the evening. We (all four) had enquired to no real satisfactory answer as to the size of the salads, intending them as starters. We were told 'large' and that they could not be split but could be shared. We ordered two and they arrived plated as four as though splitting were in fact the easiest thing in the world. My companions' Cioppino and Rosemary Garlic Roast Chicken were fine. Mac & Cheese was tasty but the pasta was not macaroni, more like conchigliette - a detail, but you expect what you see on the menu unless told otherwise.

The recently opened restaurant appears inviting and subtly decorated but any ambience is undermined by the visible lack of cohesion amongst the staff. The venue is billed as a jazz restaurant; the music when it started was loud as much as it was live and this is not always a comfortable experience when eating. With a promising menu in place and a prime downtown location Tormé's should thrive but there is a lot of work to be done yet to ensure repeat custom.

http://www.tormespalmsprings.com/

A Visit Marred, A Spirit Scarred

Legal Questions and Philosophical Matters

My visit to Palm Springs Art Museum was as delightful as today's was crushing to the spirit. I had returned with Greg to immerse ourselves in what is, even after this morning's setback, a cultural oasis. It became clear that the photography policy is not as straightforward as had seemed to be the case. Today, restrictions which were not apparent on my earlier visit, were placed upon me. I cannot say much about museum policy which is already more liberal than many but I was greatly worried that photographs I had taken on Wednesday and posted innocently might now contravene their regulations. This is no trivial matter in a nation which thrives on litigation. It was impossible to get a clear answer on my visit and I await a reply to an e-mail as it was suggested I write. Since my original alarm I am somewhat placated to see that there already more than 1000 images on Flickr alone.

Whilst I entirely respect the copyright of the artist I feel deeply conflicted. In any portrayal of a work of art, I always detail that work and fully attribute the artist. In creating an image of my own I am creating a new work rather than infringing a copyright. This is very much the case in the light of my preferred techniques. I am acutely conscious that it is difficult, to say the least, to be original in photography especially where a subject is seen in real life by many thousands or even millions of people. Often then, I strive to create a new viewpoint or unusual composition. I love close-ups, tight crops and the use of objects as frames. In a sculpture garden for instance, it is possible to frame a work with part of another. I feel entitled to create these new images as my own and, with proper credit to the original artist(s), why should I not? Copyright is a sensitive issue but all too often it seems to serve only to protect and maximise the income stream of an artist. They don't mind selling postcards and $200 books but, publicly, will protest art over money. I make no money from my creations nor do I, at this stage, want to. I enjoy recognition as of greater value.

I felt criminalised from even the inadvertent risk of copyright infringement and creatively oppressed from the (widespread) enforcement of related rules.

San Diego

The last of the day's sun splashed red-brown across the mountains to the north of Palm Springs and the windmills turned lazily in a slight evening breeze. We neared the end of a wearying journey back from San Diego which now lay far to the south. If one were to look up 'pleasant' in a thesaurus, it would probably list as synonyms both 'San Diego' and 'Coronado' although this is perhaps to understate their attractions.

We have been before and wanted to return but our visit of today was rather formless until our arrival and the limitations of a pressing temperature guided our movements. One hundred and fifty miles of third world driving on second world roads. There is neither caution nor courtesy in American driving - certainly not in California - and that state's fiscal predicament has left the roads in need of care. Stimulus money, with the logic of some perverse mind, can be spent only on building what is not needed whilst necessary repairs go undone. It is surprising that neither panic nor paralysis has gripped California. Perhaps the debt is simply too large to grasp. The recession is visible in many ways but a parody of conspicuous consumerism has replaced the genuine original. This region, waiting it appears for seismological ruin may first succumb to severe financial tremors as a social edifice built on foundations of an ill-advised mix of self-belief and complacency slides not into the Pacific à la '2012' but into another kind of turmoil.

For now though, the very beautiful city of San Diego sits demurely by the ocean and charms its visitors. I thought it strange at a time of such constraint that the tolls should have been removed from the Coronado Bridge. Perhaps it is simply uneconomical to collect them. I had had grand plans but as the temperature climbed mercilessly above 30/90 it was clear that extensive walking would result only in hospitalisation. We went on the USS Midway Museum. The aircraft exhibits are excellent but staying unprotected in the sun long enough to photograph them was hazardous. The conditions inadvertently added a little atmosphere to the visit. Not long before decommissioning in San Diego, Midway was the air operations flagship in Desert Storm. Today, the deck threw heat into our faces. The Gulf knows much higher temperatures; it is impossible to imagine working on a carrier in such conditions, in protective clothing and in combat.

There is so much to see in and around San Diego and so little covered and photographed today that we are likely to convert part of our April holiday to a further visit. With a little luck the Padres will be at home in opening week.

Solo and Savoury

For those waiting for something a bit more salacious, those who imagine an Inndulge far removed from the rather sedate reality, I can only say I am immersed in nothing more seamy then culture and climate. The most stimulated part of my body after my brain is my shutter finger. The temperatures, I think, even for here, have been high for the time of year. This requires care outside and limits ones stamina; well, mine anyway. We did the laundry and went to Michael's to buy an item for a cousin.

I had some photographic ideas around the area and left Greg at the resort whilst I drove to fulfil them. My first destination was Desert Memorial Park, resting place of Frank Sinatra amongst others. I have been before but it was not at all as I remembered it quite apart from having, presumably, more occupants. I could have sworn that some markers had standing stones but today there was none so I had to consult the office to find Francis Albert. I also enjoyed the Veteran's Chapel and associated memorials. It is a beautiful cemetery but a bit bare on a Wednesday when flowers are removed and the grounds tended.

From there I drove to the airport intending to revisit the Air Museum but lingering instead in the present day and near the Atlantic ramp for its biz-jets. There was again no sign of imminent arrest or indeed being shot. I though this just as well; if a tetanus jab costs $160, I imagine treating a bullet wound could be quite expensive. However, photography can be difficult because of the available angles and the sun. I found a gem in the form of The Loft Airport Cafe where I ate lunch early in the form of an excellent Asian salad. In the event, with the temperature probably touching 30 again, I drove past the Museum and on to another, the Palm Springs Art Museum. I was there to see a specific piece by Antony Gormley

Apart X, 2002 Antony Gormley

but the excellent collection had much more in addition to offer. I was conscious of being there without Greg and of the need to return with him espcially to the Richard Avedon exhibition. His work left me perplexed. My regular readers will both know that I am no fan of b&w and this did not make me one. I could clearly see the technical brilliance of many of the pictures but the point of none. They were for all their clarity just portraits and very few for me captured a person or their moment as presumably intended.

You might think I have no soul but you should know me better. I had soul enough to be shocked by 'Ryuanji', a cast bronze of 2006 by Deborah Butterfield. I don't really want to get involved with lawyers but I can only say that the resemblance to the works at Torre Abbey by Heather Jansch which I viewed on 12 July this year was striking. I should say that Ms. Butterfield's work appears to be the earlier. It appears that both artists use similar techniques and it can be little surprise that both, as artists, are drawn to horses. Perhaps this indicates that many works in many genres are necessarily and inevitably derivative solely because of the limitations of being human.

We shall probably visit the museum on Friday after tomorrow's excursion to the beautiful city of San Diego.

An Unexpected Clash With A Cactus

Today, on the recommendation of Inndulge owner, John we drove south to Borrego Springs a straightforward but fairly long drive with a number of options for the return journey. Many of the scenes to our left as we drove parallel to the edge of the Salton Sea could (at least from that distance) have been the Mediterranean. The desert is ceaselessly fascinating. On the one hand good quality and fairly busy roads; on the other and only yards away, harsh and unpredictable land baked in merciless heat even on this early November day when it reached 91^oF (32^oC).

The Borrego Springs Visitor Bureau was a welcoming place and furnished us with a map which showed the locations of the Ricardo Breceda sculptures which are now in my photostream at www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram . It was an exciting business tracking them down in their field placings and it was already becoming clear that it would be too much to find and photograph them all under an intense sun and its painfully bright light when I had my accident.


Accidents by their nature happen in a moment and I was quite shocked, as I photographed the Jeep sculpture, mindful of snakes but not expecting to tread on a cactus. With no warning its vicious bundle of spines penetrated all parts of my trainer's sole and, in several places, my foot. Out of earshot of Greg in the car and out of his line of sight, I then found the problem with this kind of plant enemy. It is too spiny to easily remove with your fingers and when you try, it sticks to or even penetrates your hands. I had the Jeep to lean on and  gingerly removed the shoe with only a handkerchief to protect my hand and the sole looking a bit like a porcupine. I limped back to the car avoiding the spiny relatives of my assailant and we started picking at my foot, my sock, my handkerchief and shoe.


On arrival in Borrego Springs I had noticed directions to the Fire Station and went there for paramedic advice and for assistance in removing spines from my sole which required protection and a tool. They were very persistent. The firefighters who do not see many cactus stricken British tourists in their part of California, two hours drive from a major hospital (San Diego or Palm Springs) were very helpful and hospitable. With my shoe restored and advice to get a tetanus shot, I stayed for a chat and to photograph their vehicles - also now on Flickr.

Friendly people must be the norm in Borrego Springs. We were getting very hungry after the loss of time and drove down to Carlee's at 660 Palm Canyon Drive. There was an exceptionally large menu for a town with a population of around 3000 and several other restaurants. The food was excellent and served in a friendly and charming way. We had considered a mountain drive back to the Coachella Valley but my incident and the rising heat rather took the wind out of my sails. With a wish to reach Desert Regional Medical Center during normal hours, we opted for the safe return route the way we had come on S22, 86S and I10.

Visting the ER (Richards Center) was an educational experience. It was not busy but any waiting is managed a bit like Disney. There is always someone to see, somewhere to move to from initial clerking to receiving my injection. Treatment was very efficient and professional but comes at a cost. Without even seeing a doctor I paid $160 for the jab. I left with a prescription for prophylactic antibiotics to fill in town and that cost another $11.99. The price of peace of mind and relief that it did not happen somewhere without excellent medical care.

Railway Photography and A New Suitcase

The railway photography in Trains magazine (US) and especially in its Locomotive 2010 special is unrivalled. It astonishes me that, in a country where freight dominates passenger traffic and people do not generally travel distances by rail, there is such a flourishing enthusiast movement. To combine the hobbies of railways and photography has supposedly been occasionally difficult after 9/11 although I am not aware of any specific threat outside the aviation world in that time. In my vacation area there is substantial east and west movement of often huge freight trains. They are so long it is hard to imagine anywhere big enough to put them together or indeed separate the wagons at their destinations. Before today and right up to this morning, I had visualised several locations (for photography) but only at lunchtime captured my first very satisfying image outside LA Union station and (many years ago) South Florida. I was very pleased and the more so for having done this in plain sight of a Sheriff's car without being challenged or even perhaps shot. The intense bright light of the desert requires some care in using largely automatic cameras so I was pleased too with my later shots of a cactus.

I have often remarked that good pictures can be produced only with inspiration and so, even here, a lot around me goes unrecorded. We had been to Cabazon for the outlets and I found its dinosaurs completely uninspiring so they remain in the I-10 hinterland and in other photostreams but not mine. My visit to Casino Morongo was rather startling when it took considerably less time to spend $20 on a machine than $11.09 on my Panda Express lunch. With a new suitcase in the boot (trunk) we headed back to Palm Springs. Now it remains only to see whether the handle or wheels will be damaged first and whether LAX or LHR has the winning team.

Halloween at Inndulge

Social events are rather traumatising for me and I usually avoid them to the extent I am no longer expected to appear. There are many layered reasons for my discomfort none of which has anything much to do with the other people there, who are often be friends and colleagues with whom I can interact comfortably in other settings. I am not going to go into it but you can, if you wish, psychoanalyse me privately. It is perhaps surprising then that we actually choose to be at Inndulge for Halloween (not that we have to attend the party and not everyone does). Given in addition to the facts above, my natural aversion to drag or indeed dressing up at all, it is probably even more surprising.

The fact is the owners and their staff put an enormous amount of effort into organising events throughout the year including Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year as well as Halloween. Most of the guests as well as the owners and staff have great fun by the pool as participants or judges in the costume competition. To take a group of 20-30 to a restaurant is a challenge for both organisers and hosts. I felt some apprehension after a service meltdown on a previous occasion when, I recall, I might have briefly have become Michael Winner.

Trio at 707 N Palm Canyon Drive did not let us down. After a bit of a wait for our tables, service by a hoard of waiters, many of them main dishes in themselves, was very organised. We ate from a pre-selected menu and, in spite of my fears, plates were, as far as I could see, delivered correctly all round and certainly in a very timely fashion. A simple Caesar salad was very fresh. My pork chop was excellent and Greg's chicken too although our respective beds of mash may have been plated a little too soon to retain as much warmth as might have been ideal. Key Lime Pie was delicious but did not gain anything from a raspberry coulis. We would go again on a regular evening.

As we were still suffering from jetlag it was a tiring evening but very enjoyable, Thank you John and Jean-Guy.

Photos are on Facebook.

New On The Shelves

Anathema though shopping is to me I cannot help but notice new things when I am in shops. When there is a recession as indeed there is visibly in Palm Springs and, presumably, the wider US, it must be difficult to stimulate the economy through the consumer. After so many years of human existence, it must be difficult to come up with anything new at all so I admire enterprise even in the form of things I would not buy. Soon after our arrival, I noticed Starbucks branded ice cream in flavours which will be familiar if you frequent the eponymous coffee house. These were in California supermarket Ralphs and, lo and behold, only aisles away, were non-frozen branded offerings in the beverage aisle.

More attractive to the tea drinker if not the lover of  traditional books is 'Nook' by Barnes & Noble. From a purely technological point of view, I was interested but I cannot imagine a time when I would surrender the tactile experience of reading a real book for this or any other e-book. It is attractive, keenly priced and comes in several variants but what would my house look like without the 1500 volumes it can replace? One of the selling points is, apparently, the download price which brings me neatly to my next discourse.

Book prices are and have for a long while been largely arbitrary. When does any hardcover or paperback, certainly any popular title, sell for its cover price? A Nook download costs, apparently, typically 50% of the book price but only feet away from the Nook display at B&N were new hardcovers at 40% discount to members. What concerns me far more here and elsewhere is the morally unsound misuse of the adjective 'new' as in 'new in paperback'. It is common now for this to mean no more than 'new jacket/cover' on a very old novel. I am certain that this designed to confuse and sure that many fans of serial authors have rushed into a purchase without checking back mentally or otherwise through their 'read' list.

Today in the desert was everything the UK is not this time of year. Not to appear ungrateful, I would say that acclimatisation is the problem which follows on and overlaps jetlag. I love the desert heat but after weeks of much lower temperatures at home it takes some getting used to. We had lunch at Baja Fresh, the thinking man's answer to Taco Bell (with mango salsa) and went home to rest. The only disappointment was that the Martha Stewart Holly Punch has not yet been delivered.

Things Americans Don't Get #1 and #2 in a series of 1,000,000

For the first 24hrs of each visit to America, which ultimately I enjoy, I find myself at the wrong end of my love-hate relationship with the population at large. It is not about being British (or European) and therefore right. It is about being right, period (as they say here), about doing things better.

#1 When did Americans lose the use of their arms and hands? How CAN they stand at the supermarket till, watch the shopping going through and do absolutely f**king nothing towards packing it? They might feel I suppose that they are depriving the invariably slightly deficient packer of a role but that role is a prime example of job creation where none is needed. Quite apart from anything else shopping should be packed coherently, for example keeping the chilled items together, not just randomly hurled item by item into countless carrier bags. It is perhaps because the mental capacity of the shopper would frequently not challenge that of the packer, not to say that they have no social awareness whatsoever that they are completely oblivious to the fact that their minutes of entirely avoidable inertia keep everyone else waiting longer. The only thing that comes out of my tortured minutes in Ralphs is my Mum gets more bin liners.

#2 Elsewhere and in many shops Americans just don't get Chip and PIN. Perhaps they won't do it because they didn't invent it. They will however ID you for a crummy $30 and that is supposed to be security. They find this acceptable because there is a widespread belief even in established tourist areas that no-one in America could possibly be not American and that they therefore all carry ID and bank with American banks. So there is almost universal use still of signatures with all the risk that entails but, ironically, there is also widespread use of those electronic tablets to sign on (the kind UPS use in the UK when they don't give a shit who they're giving a parcel to). Those tablets are completely incapable of accepting anything resembling a person's actual signature thus rendering the signing process completely useless.

I'll probably calm down soon. I am severely jet-lagged and disoriented but there was so much we had to do on arrival in Palm Springs.

Autumn Holiday Day 1 - LHR-LAX

It was a uniformly grey morning but we were affected by neither weather nor traffic on a short and uncomplicated drive to Heathrow. The wind chilled us as we left the car and we were glad to reach the sanctuary of check-in or, more accurately, bag-drop. The valet parking staff were charmless and weary. It is annoying that, although one provides full details when booking this service, including, unsurprisingly, make of car and return flight, these details in full do not reach the office so one has to answer avoidable questions and spend avoidable minutes doing so. For the first time, I have made a note of the mileage so that any unreasonable addition will have to be explained. BA Bag Drop was a far more chatty affair where the agent was possibly even less kindly disposed to the US determination of our security procedures than I am. Still, some of that is about to change after this week’s meeting of Air Operators and the enlightened comments of Phillip Hammond. There were the slightest signs today of the more ridiculous rules crumbling but I might have imagined part of a more a pleasant atmosphere because, for once and miraculously, I said absolutely nothing to the strange recruits who enforce these rules. Their facial expressions spoke volumes.

We felt reassured that ESTA has finally replaced I94-W rather than running in parallel with it and I wondered how this might affect our passage through LAX. With no green stub to surrender on departure how might our exit be recorded?


T5 was bustling for the early morning but not over busy and as the European surge left, the terminal and, more importantly, the Club Lounge became less hectic. The lounge remains an oasis with welcome bacon rolls amongst a good choice of breakfast items. They have learned no lessons about the layout of the toilets though and mine cannot have been the only previous comments. It is impossible to determine whether the cubicles are engaged without trying the door or using a magnifying glass. This could so easily be rectified.


Our timing in reaching the B satellite at almost exactly the commencement of boarding was rewarded only by the longest walk possible in the terminal with our aircraft parked on Gate 548 which is just south of Northolt. On board our seats offered welcome comfort and once again reminded me that I shall no longer be trying those a little further back (certainly not on LHR-LAX). The cabin crew were numerous but inattentive to detail and cool bordering on offhand. They had the air, perhaps not unsurprisingly, of people who have been at odds with their employer for much of the year and are now rather inconvenienced by the presence of passengers. Food choice was limited and affected Greg. This was attributed to avoidance of waste (which is partially reasonable). A passenger behind me was offered an already open bottle of water and my main course was delivered to the wrong seat. It should not be difficult to remember meal assignments in a compact cabin. During the flight and for the first time ever I think, I used my laptop to draft this blog and edit my photographs. I felt good about being ahead with my tasks. I noticed there was no toothpick with my lunch and wondered if not loading 400 of these would be a significant weight saving. Perhaps it was instead a cost saving but in either case there was one with afternoon tea, curiously described by the server as 'lunch'. I actually photographed my cheese sandwich to illustrate how the cheese covered approximately half the bread. Another weight/cost saving?

The arrival process at LAX was much changed and a very mixed experience. Many stands require tow-on and our first tug broke. When we reached the immigration hall it was to find large queues. We were directed to #9 which at least has three outlets. I was surprised and pleased when a handful of us were redirected quite pleasantly to #2 when vacated by US citizens. Without I94-W processing it was quick. However, there was a big 'however'. There has always been an overlap in the US between what we would know as immigration and customs. The latter at LAX now has huge lines, much more checking and even arrival screening. After much shuffling we were treated very cheerfully by Howard and got straight on a Hertz shuttle. They did not compare favourably with Alamo. They had already annoyed me in the UK by not recognising my No 1 Club Card and by offering online check-in which did not work. The upshot today was 15 minutes at the desk and $101 extra expenditure on a 'pre-paid' rental. The amount of money they must make on their Fuel Payment Option must be phenomenal. No-one arrives back at the car rental with a tank that is actually empty.

We drive to Palm Springs early tomorrow via the inevitable Denny's.

Together In Eclectic Dreams

We don't always take a full day off before travelling but to do so has its advantages. It slows the paces, aids relaxation. Relaxing is something I don't do well. I usually approach an opportunity with some suspicion. Our forthcoming journey is a familiar one, an annual pilgrimage to late autumn sunshine in a convivial atmosphere. Today was a reminder of exactly why we go; not cold but so grey (for the most part). My photographs of HMS Albion at sea where almost monochrome before I processed them. My camera today captured the diversity of my photostream in just 3-4 hours. There was West Quay, police vehicles, urinals, pumpkins and then the Royal Navy at work before the government dismantles it.

We went to West Quay in a comfortable pre-Christmas lull to meet a friend with whom diaries have not matched in many months. It was very pleasant but kept us away a little longer than might otherwise have been the case from online check-in. To hold the boarding passes is a lift. We have the seats we want. With the ink drying on those we went into Lee for lunch and some last minute activities. Sea King activity had caught our eyes and turned out to be associated with an exercise in the Solent. There were two other ships involved but photography of even the one was a challenge.

There remained only packing and some restorative rest. This blog will guide you through our stay in Palm Springs (edited if necessary) and the Halloween party should be a highlight. If you can not comment here please do so on Facebook and if you can do neither then just enjoy my illustrated ramblings.

LAX Beckons

I could hardly be happier as the last few hours pass before my flight LHR-LAX. I have to brace myself to avoid clashes with security staff at either airport by containing my natural impatience with the moronic and futile procedures we all face when we travel. It embarrasses Greg and puts me at risk and I really should not let it happen this time.

It appears now, however, that I have two strong allies in the form of the Chairman of BA and the Chief Executive of BAA. I am delighted by their comments reported today and almost ignited with happiness when their sentiments were supported by some security experts. It is true that DfT moves exceeding slow on these issues and is motivated by politically savvy caution. It is true too, as noted by the two executives, that we are complying with draconian requirements from the US government which they do not enforce for some of their own travellers.

I would like to believe that a real movement for common-sense inspired change is now under way and that I might again be able to change the balance in my life between flights and cruises.