Sepia Triumph

I have enjoyed 2 1/2 days off so far as though they were leave rather than time off between cycles. My perennially young aunt had a lot to do with that but today my destination was in my own hands. In fact, in the morning, I felt rather flat and demotivated. I am known for my mood swings. Faced with the journey home and another beautiful day, I had to decide between Museum of Army Flying at Middle Wallop and Didcot Railway Centre (or go to neither). I chose the latter and was not disappointed. With the bank holiday behind us it was a quiet day at Didcot. Whilst a steaming day would provide its own kind of photo-opportunities, a day without crowds provided others. I was gratified to find my way in as it had not been obvious on my previous visit and I considered it extremely good value at £5.

The site is extensive and ideas for photographs abounded as my gaze fell on many subjects beyond the obvious locomotives. I had a wonderful time but gave myself a scare at lunchtime. As I placed my lunch on the outside table, I realised I no longer had my shoulder bag with me. I had left it on a locomotive as I was taking pictures and, fortunately, found it quickly. My sausage, chips and beans rather stuck to my teeth after that fright.

It can be difficult to stay creative after a period of stimulation such as that containing my visits to Blooms and Cardiff and that is why I had felt ambivalent about today's opportunities. I am glad though that I went and deeply satisfied with my photographs. I am particularly proud of the sepia image I am now using at the head of this blog. Here are two more of my near-abstracts.

The Three Crowns, Brinkworth

The Three Crowns at Brinkworth near Swindon is worth a drive but visit an ATM or check your credit card limit first. First impressions were mixed. There are some quirks of restaurants I do not like. The Three Crowns does not do starters. In explaining this they intimated that a main course and dessert would challenge most people. Later they commented on our cleared plates although the portions had been good but not huge. There are no menus as everything is written on blackboards. One such, with 'lighter' dishes (and lighter prices) is hidden away and requires customers' attention to be drawn to it. Vegetarians are served by two dishes amongst an almost bewildering array of meat which extends from steak and chicken to ostrich, wild boar and, believe it or not, crocodile. I thought we might be on a slippery slope when neither Greg's first choice of veal nor his second choice of boar was available. His ostrich came with a rich sauce and tasted better than it smelt; served pink, its bloodiness lent an almost fishy and not very appetising smell. However, he enjoyed it. My Thai style chicken pie - one does not readily associate Thailand with puff pastry - was actually very good as was my aunt's chicken stroganoff. The accompanying dish of 5 or 6 vegetables seemed at first inappropriate to any of the main courses but in fact suited all well. All ingredients were of evident quality and the vegetables were properly cooked. The dauphinoise was particularly good.

If the main courses were expensive, then the dessert menu (an actual menu) was positively scary. The fare though somewhat justified the prices. My aunt's trifle pleased her and my duo of brulee was verging on the sublime. Both dishes were beautifully presented and my accompaniment of home made raspberry ice cream was first class. Greg's cheeseboard was generous in quantity and choice with delicious cheese and plenty of biscuits.

In a highly competitive market and in an area not lacking in eating choices, The Three Crowns will need to consider where it goes with its prices. For the time being the excellent food and spacious accommodation make a visit worthwhile.

7.5 out of 10 for excellent food at challenging prices.

Cardiff Bay Revisited

The day dawned brighter and clearer than in the whole of August, a month now nearly at its end. We fed on breakfast of toast and marmalade and the starlings outside fed on whatever it is that communally excites them. We set off for Cardiff with my aunt and had a very pleasant drive. Our timing was such that we would beat the worst of the bank holiday crowds in (and out). The Mermaid Quay car park had plenty of spaces and Cardiff Bay was understandably busy.
I don’t much care for fairs and craft markets but they were an inevitable part of the weekend. Crowded though it was, it was all at least as pleasant as last time and I was pleased to be back. We saw an extremely interesting short film show in the Pierhead Building and looked around before boarding the boat ‘Cygnet’ of Cardiff Waterbus for an excellent 30 minute trip round Cardiff Bay via a short stop at the barrage. There were lots of photographs to be taken although, with the motion of the boat, some verticals were difficult to maintain. I was very pleased with the results. We had lunch in Bosphorus and service was much better than on our last, evening visit. Mixed cold and hot meze were excellent and eating outside extremely pleasant although it did get pretty cool out of the sunshine. We left long before the crowds and had an uneventful journey back. In the evening we ate at The Three Crowns, Brinkworth, reviewed separately.

Bank Holiday West

It is of course compulsory for it to be cool and cloudy on a Bank Holiday weekend. And so it was for much of the time. I worked and was released early enough for it to be of benefit. We gathered our thoughts and possessions and drove to Wroughton to stay with my aunt. She is a young and apparently unstoppable 71. There were some bright patches on our way on the rather pleasant non-motorway route but more gloom when we arrived.

We went to Blooms Garden Centre which has butterflies and animals and presented many photographic opportunities. Some of the photography was unexpectedly challenging because of the constant movements of the animals. Do you have any idea how much meerkats move around? They will not stay still even if you ask and all that digging is I think rather OCDish. A heavy shower interrupted viewing and feeding but did not perturb the otters who, presumably, are used to being wet. I was very pleased but the pleasure did not end there. My aunt took us to the Swindon part of the Wilts & Berks canal and on to Old Wroughton. The late afternoon and evening weather had become bright and beautiful and photography was again inviting. It was a great trip out.

'Simples'

Should Common Sense Be Optional?

There are days which are still young when I have my first outburst. Today was one such. I drove my Mum to her doctor to find the road to it closed and the diversion unviable. There was no alternative side or back road; access to the surgery was annexed. Given that the work with which this closure was associated had not commenced and that 0845 was probably close anyway to a first break for the misleadingly named workmen, I engaged top gear (metaphorically) and set about instigating the introduction of common sense. The sign with the cones said 'Road Closed'. The sheep with whom I share this planet would have accepted this and driven off confused and, eventually, lost. I did not accept it especially when access to the doctor's surgery and, as it hapens, a vet's, had been cut off. This clumsy start to five days of resurfacing works does not acknowledge that many people visiting a doctor are in no fit state to walk from the nearest parking.

Suffice it to say that my short but effective discussion with the foreman resulted in an 'Access Only' sign being added to the 'Road Closed' and elicited an undertaking to maintain access for as much of the works as possible. Why don't they think of these things in the first place? Where is common sense or courtesy in roadworks planning?

Between the Past and the Future

We are all stuck, aren't we, between the past and the future; stuck in a never ending series of moments known as the present. We never quite grasp the present as quickly it moves on to become only a memory. The human condition is essentially one of hope and that defines the role of the future, a place for the better. A place where something new, maybe something exciting, will happen. A part of our minds also demands nostalgia not to mention the more serious role of the past as the place we look to learn whether it be learning at the mother's knee or learning the lessons of world history.

These thoughts define the role and value of photography. A typical photograph captures its image for only 1/100th of a second but most often it captures so much more. Once committed to film or media the image will tell a tale of the past to the future. A look, a place, how things were, how we lived. This then inspires the photographer and is where I found myself in the last couple of days. At the one hour in my chair uploading 1988 and 89 photographs whose value, insofar as they contain images now long deleted by time itself, is inestimable; at the next, wondering what tomorrow might bring in terms of new opportunities to record what soon will be past.

In photography, we are artists more than we are scientists even if, like me, we choose documentary over art photography. The production of an excellent image satisfies another need of the inner being, to be creative, to be worthwhile, to leave something behind.

"It's just a moment.....this time will pass" (U2)

Bexleyheath and Beyond

891025A
Originally uploaded by John Oram

This photograph points you towards my set "UK Buses 1988-89" in Flickr. Not to everyone's taste but as capable of evoking memories as my aircraft photographs. Forgotten operators, forgotten liveries, altered backgrounds.

Join me at www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram

Two Events

A weekend of determinedly poor weather - with more to follow - saw two very different events for us. On Saturday evening we went to the tenth anniversary party of gay friends. The do, for which people dressed, was very pleasant and at times, moving. The presence of and short speeches by both sets of parents rather effectively validated gay relationships. Although my Mum has always been close to both of us this level of visible support was not, for various reasons, available to me and Greg.

Today, I took my cousin to Heathrow primarily to see A380s, an objective rather thoroughly achieved. We saw Singapore on the ground as we arrived and the arrivals of Air France and Emirates. We saw the departures of Singapore and Qantas and, to round off, the departure of Air France. I have to note that three police cars drove past our T5 vantage point and did not bat an eyelid (or headlamp). Landing shots were difficult to get on 27R but a dull sky simplified exposures for shots of 27L departures. After taking some fairly atrocious photographs last night - I really don't like flash - I was relieved with some of the results today.

F-HPJC

Fourth Plinth - A New Podium for the Olympics

For those of us who have only just got round to viewing the striking Nelson's Ship in a Bottle on the now famous fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square it is a bit of a shock to be looking forward to the new commission for display during Britain's Olympic inspired bankruptcy proceedings in 2012.

There are 6 contenders highlighted at www.fourthplinth.co.uk . I have an opinion - I have an opinion about everything - but visit the site yourself to reflect, vote and comment.

Mumbai Spice

Recently arrived at Sainsburys and presumably elsewhere, the new Mumbai Spice range from Gulam Noon is going to delight the Indian food afficionado. The promotional prices were attractive but I had decided in two mouthfuls that I would willingly have paid the full price (£11.99 for 'Banquet for Two').

As indicated we bought a meal which contained two excellent chicken dishes, a superb vegetable curry, plenty of rice and a naan. There is a wide range of individual dishes all in subtle but eye-catching packaging. We also bought Chowpatty Aloo Tikki which come with accompaniments to make an exceptionally tasty snack. My only criticism of these was that they were fiddly to put together - which did not greatly bother me in a household where Greg does almost all food preparation with patience and skill - but the flavour alone was worth his effort. The main dishes exuded quality with only the naan perhaps letting down the collation slightly with a lack of flavour. The quantities are enormous and I felt that parents eating with a single child could have fed the third person with no-one missing out.

Go to www.mumbai-spice.com to see more for yourself but then buy some at your next shop. You will not be disappointed.

Fareham

The aftermath of two night duties is never pleasant. It involves piecing together lost sleep and the disruption of bodily functions. An aging body does not cope well with these things. The weather, although unsettled, did bring some sunshine and it seemed appropriate to take advantage if only to do routine shopping. We went to Fareham for Greg's bank and the town centre brought two surprises. The first was an opportunity to photograph one of the sculptures in the misleadingly named Henry Cort Sculpture Park. Far from being any kind of park in which viewing might be a pleasure the eponymous area is merely the pedestrian precinct along which, on both sides, some largely unremarkable pieces have been placed. Don't expect Moore or Hepworth; don't expect even to know you are there. In the rather prosaic context of T K Maxx and Iceland shop fronts, the sculptures lose much of any impact they might have had elsewhere. Today, 'Figurines' by Ryszard Mazur stood out enough to tempt photography. I even thought I might incorporate a shop front poster in the image but liked that result least of my three.



Rather more touchingly, if inexplicably, there was just down the road a travelling display of animals in the manner of a petting farm. Provided by http://www.kidsrome.co.uk/ it was, I suppose, simply part of the summer holiday attractions. The animals looked healthy if more sedated than sedate and I saw photographs. Anthropomorphism is usually misguided so I did not assume they were necessarily happy.



It was more difficult to be happy in Sainsbury's Broadcut building site nightmare. It was not unlike being in a pen albeit with a view of exposed ceiling and the intermittent clatter of drills. Their redevelopment is due to continue until December 1st and I wondered if the substantial discount voucher Sainsburys had provided precisely to encourage continued shopping was worth another visit.


Ironically and forbodingly, only a short distance away, clearance work has begun on what is meant to be the site of a new Tesco. This in turn is to be accompanied by substantial reorganisation of the surrounding road infrastructure. The effects of this are likely to be so severe that we shall probably leave our home area via Stubbington for all journeys including those to Havant and the east. The shine will long since have gone off the new Sainsburys before its rival opens its doors and the traffic generated by Tesco is unlikely to be managed effectively even by the revised roads. Perhaps I shall be proved wrong.

Between Innings

To be between night duties is normally fairly disabling and requires management of both diet and rest. Furthermore, I have been affected recently by a series of, as it turned out, unfounded worries (my worries usually are). Today though, as the weather brightened between bouts of dark cloud and rain, I felt somewhat invigorated and seized an opportunity to go out. It is an immeasurable benefit to have the ever-patient Greg to drive. This is almost a necessity when seeking locations (for photography) where parking opportunities are not obvious.

There are in fact several enticing views from the carriageway of the M27 but, as it is illegal to stop much less wander around on the hard shoulder, I don't yet have a solution to match my aspirations there. Eastleigh, although home of many miles of double yellow lines does present many opportunities if one seeks vantage points. The unsettled weather was an advantage as there were no harsh shadows and it was only as I completed an unexpectedly stimulating visit to Eastleigh Lakeside Railway that heavy raindrops accompanied my walk back to the car.



I got shots around the town's main but much diminished railway infrastructure but felt that a security guard displayed thinly disguised pleasure in (politely) refusing my request to move closer to a fence. I felt he was quoting imaginary rules and left glad that at least I had got some worthwhile images from those invaluable 'public places'. Of course, photographers can not impose their wishes beyond reasonableness and I have not yet encountered any direct obstruction of my hobby. Worldwide reaction has ensured that the authorities and the many rather less well informed (usually private) security guards are ever more circumspect in quoting mangled versions of laws and regulations to prevent legitimate photography. I enjoyed myself and my Flickr photostream thrives.

Time Shall Pass

Time shall pass
And faster then you might care
Capture then the passing moments
In picture and in word
Lest one day you should rue
The occasion missed

Cloud and Rain

Sitting in my dully lit living room (until I put the light on) and feeling that it was rather cool - a view endorsed by colleagues and relatives, I wondered whether I had anything to write about. A week ago I was in Paris albeit for a failed trip but today brought only work. The weight of responsibility of being Watch Supervisor was there to be felt and, whatever the perceptions of my colleagues, I had plenty to do. In the final half hour I was called upon to support Heathrow as weather avoiding disrupted traffic.

It had not been so evident further south and the semi-final teams at the Rose Bowl had made it on and off the field with little disruption. After my customary nap though, it was a different story. As I was considering the merits of a new post a sound outside alerted me to the fall of heavy, thundery rain splashing vigorously on our garden wall and in my eyeline. The distant thunder rolled menacingly around and yet more rain fell in this extraordinary August. The temperatures have been indisputably cool, the cloud persistent and the rain frequent. What are we to think? These are conditions which discourage extra-mural activities when perhaps we should be walking around and dampen photography when we should be being creative.

There are various opportunities on forthcoming days off and I hope they are fulfilled but my focus for the while is on the last ten days of September when, at a guess, we will recreate earlier trips to Devon, Cornwall and Scotland and hope that the reruns take place in better weather than the first attempts. If BAA strikes take place there could be a lot of people relying on the UK for their late holidays. With or without airport disruption, I remain unenthusiastic about flying without a very good reason and fully expect to spend more time on land and at sea.

I can probably be happy wherever I am with Greg and if this weather continues, that is more likely to be in the car or even at home than anywhere very exciting. Perhaps I should not seek too much excitement; they do say 'be careful what you wish for'. I'll take a risk to close and wish for world peace and that the polar bears still have somewhere to live in 50 years time.

No Smoke, No Mirrors

I am not a very practical person. In the event of anything going wrong about the house, I am more likely to reach for my wallet or the telephone than a toolbox. It was a close run thing then when the smoke detector started bleeping - once a minute. A couple of hours before bedtime this intentionally loud noise is not an attractive proposition. We knew that our smoke detectors are connected to the mains and did not expect additional batteries. However, we did discover the 9v battery and the related instructions INSIDE the detector cap.

Armed with this knowledge we went to one of our mercifully late opening shops and bought the necessary battery and replaced the old one. Not much, you might think but for me........

The Simple Pleasures Of An Unplanned Day

We should have been in Paris but were instead at home and then out in the local area. We had several mundane things to do such as recycling and organising dry cleaning. We needed to get Greg's glasses mended - they recently had structural failure. I did not expect anything special of Gosport which I usually find very dull. It certainly lacks visual appeal. Quite unexpectedly I found a sand sculpture event in Gosport Discovery Centre. On arrival I was immediately despondent as there were children there at two instructional sandpits. Legislation these days prevents one from photographing children even incidentally and I only wanted shots of the main piece. To my surprise and gratification the centre staff were extremely sensible and accommodating and I got my photographs, child free, and reviewed them with a staff member. The artists, Paul Hoggard, his wife Remy Geerts and their assistant Ian Cooper are incredibly talented. I was inspired and uplifted by the work and by that illustrated on their promotional flyer. You can visit them at http://www.sandartist.com/ and www.youtube.com/paulhoggard .



The harbour front also provides plenty of interest and although I was unable to get a decent shot of today's naval residents, I was very taken by the gathering of immature starlings which look very striking in their 'half-way' plumage.

Lunch in Lee on Solent afforded the opportunity to enjoy the ever changing seascape of which I never tire. Today there were blues and greens which could, dare I say, only exist in God's creation. I know what I mean.

Later still, the simple act of going to close the back door led to an unplanned shot of two of our loveliest neighbours.

It was a day to love life.

Paris Weekend - Day 2

For all that it is dim and, in many parts, smells of piss, Paris Gare du Nord does serve some good food. The French it seems, whilst they do not pay much attention to under the rim or indeed under the arms do demand excellent food even when it is not French in origin. I was at Brasserie Alize consuming an early lunch, Greek as it happens, and waiting for a Eurostar to St Pancras. This, you might note, was rather unexpected. Below, a little cameo unfolded as a bold drunk armed with nothing more than a bottle of Heineken was giving some lip to three squaddies armed with guns. His judgement might have been clouded.

When we got up, it was depressingly cloudy again and there appeared to be showers in the distance. Breakfast was good but we returned to the room dispirited and Greg's leg was sore and swollen from yesterday's excessive walking. That, with the weather seemed to preclude hours of tramping around today. With surprising ease we decided to go home and I booked on Eurostar. It certainly did not seem attractive to get up before six tomorrow and face CDG again. In the taxi to Gare du Nord I regretted our decision for a few moments but knew too that it was correct. The buildings of Paris looked very beautiful and shone even in the flat light. We shall return but probably not by plane.

Gare du Nord has changed subtly over the many years we have been going there. Whilst the suburban section is in a bright extension the main terminal remains rather dim and the concourse very cluttered presenting few pleasing opportunities to the camera. It remains a focal point for undesirables and one feels the need to take extra care with ones bag.

I was left wondering whether Eurostar is the attractive alternative it should be but that is to a large extent a rhetorical question. Security angered me deeply when I had to go through the arch four times all because of the packaging of my Omeprazole. Once again I was threatened that I might not get my train if I showed any dissent. This is a dilemma of the age. There are some damaged people working in security and they have inordinate power. I can not see the solution but it all serves to make travel less and less attractive. On board service was lethargic to stationary and the food dull. Our train was timed for the fastest journey over the route at 2h 16 non-stop to St Pancras but failed to come near to that. The rational mind can not grasp why, on emerging from the tunnel to the UK side, we should slow to a brief standstill BEFORE continuing on the high speed line. To be fair though I think we lost most of the time in France. We crossed the Medway bridge for the first time and only glimpsed Ebbsfleet and Stratford stations. The approach to St Pancras is a spectacular curve and it was most peculiar to be arriving there by train only days after our visit.

We were fortunate to catch a Piccadilly Line train straight away and there were no delays on the M3 either.

Addendum

It is a little after midnight here in Paris. I waited for a possible reduction in server usage and experimented with file size. FB still wouldn't play; Flickr managed 331Kb - no good for my photostream. I have to conclude that Marriott and iBahn between them have failed me.

Paris Weekend - Day 1

Having left home early but with a curious lack of excitement, we did not hurry to Heathrow much to the chagrin of the many people with vehicles with funny shaped and noisy exhausts who overtook me. What would they be like if they actually owned their cars instead of leasing them? Our short term parking deal meant convenient and speedy parking not to mention a considerable sense of relief that I am not paying BAA's rather unattractive £73.70 a day.

Terminal 4 is the second transformation I have seen in three days. Whilst not as spectacular as that of St Pancras it certainly is impressive compared to the dull place it had become in little more than 20 years of previous life. Unfortunately the security staff, if outwardly and disingenuously pleasant, continue to wage psychological warfare on passengers and to misinterpret and misapply DfT regulations to their own advantage. Say one word out of place - as I did - and they gleefully impose additional checks on anyone who dares to challenge the essential futility of what they do. You probably wonder if I have any examples to illuminate my diatribe; I do. When challenged in detail - which they don't like one bit - they choose to hide behind 'government regulations' or, as one supervisor eventually did, admit the truth. They make you take off belts; this is not in the regulations but it makes things easier for them. There is no regard for how much passengers have to re-dress (although ironically they have no redress) or repack as long as life is easier for those of the strange mental makeup that allows them to be security personnel in the first place. They will tell you that removal of shoes is in the regulations too. The DfT recommendation is in fact for scanning of 1 in 3. There never was any scientific basis for most of the rules put in place as alarmist reactions to isolated incidents; now there is even less. Apparently nail scissors are now allowed (in hand baggage)whilst liquids in excess of 100ml and therefore meaning most bottles of mineral water, are not. My guess is I could do a lot more harm with the nail scissors than a bottle of Evian. I expect I should lay all this at the door of the DfT and the equivalent authorities worldwide. They are affiliated to governments which want us to live in fear so that they can justify their existences by putting in place all the measures which supposedly save us from certain doom.

The Skyteam lounge is very nicely appointed and our little corner of it had a pleasant view of 27L, the departure runway this morning. Boarding of our flight AFR1981 was prompt but departure eventually late. First the air jetty stuck and then we had an unfavourable position in the departure sequence but I was surprised to depart from an intersection. In many ways being on the A380 was unremarkable. There is little to say 'size' on board and it is not obvious that you are on the upper deck. Air France have chosen a rather bland interior and I was not convinced that the business class seat would be comfortable on a very long journey. It does not appear to compete with BA. Although the promotional fare was very good we expected a little more service. No attempt was made to serve a welcome drink even though the boarding process was protracted. On the other hand, it was a minor miracle to serve even a snack lunch on a 35 minute flight and the food was tasty. I treated myself to a glass (plastic tumbler) of champagne. TV presenter Andi Peters was in seat 66A. I absolutely loved the external cameras but disliked their rather erratic availability. Watching the landing at CDG was fun.

That was where the fun stopped. I was soon enough reminded why I don't use CDG and had planned to go Paris by train. It was hot in the terminal and the walks unbelievably long even with a shuttle train within 2E. The lower levels of the building are dim although more light reaches the floor above. The aircraft information system had given #40 as our baggage carousel but it went to another. Delivery was slow and we still had to reach the RER station. The airport makes few concessions to the visitor and fewer to the mobility impaired. It is an obstacle course to challenge even the fit. The ticket machines are not prominent but they are now much better at taking non-French credit cards, a major failing in the past. The RER train was sweltering and when we alighted at Denfert-Rocherau we had just enough energy to reach the hotel but were a little revived by the air outside.

Our fatigue and the presence nearby if not in the immediate locality of heavy showers, kept us in the hotel for dinner. The food in the amusingly named R'Yves - presumably a play on the hotel's own Rive Gauche name - was very good and beautifully presented. From our 16th floor room we could see north all the way across the city to Montmartre. As the day died Sacre Coeur disappeared in a succession of showers. I finished this post and turned back to Facebook and Flickr in order to try to overcome earlier failed uploads.

London

The illegal occupation is not the peace camp outside the Houses of Parliament. Most of the inhabitants of the former are sincerely protesting the evils of idealogically bankrupt foreign policy and of conflict resident in the latter. The illegal occupation is that of our infrastructure. You can not move without coming across roadworks, diversions or disruption to rail services. All of it is done under the guise of 'improvements' with little mitigation to the invariably protracted disruption. In spite of the hollow promises of the authorities this remains under-regulated and unco-ordinated. It would be more bearable if work on these sites were visible and continuous but it is all too common to fight ones way past cones with only abandoned plant to see. London is a patchwork of such disruptions and, currently, it extends underground on account of the much delayed and still somewhat speculative Crossrail.









The development of this post will seem to contradict some of the sentiment above but my report on St Pancras is, I think, an exception. London today was everything I love and and hate about the capital. It was enormously stimulating with more to see than one could ever do in a day. But it was crowded too and some of the shuffling masses were pretty dull. There were, interestingly, as many buses in the Trafalgar Square area as at the east end of Princes Street. The way the Circle Line, the poor relation of the Underground, is run does not get better and I noticed the amended map on Piccadilly Line traines announces that trains might stand at Heathrow T4 for up to 8 minutes before continuing to T123. WTF? If that happens that is piss poor pathing (with T5 trains).

My photographic erogenous zones had already been stimulated by Hindhead Tunnel south portal which I had managed to visit after two previous failed attempts. After parking in Trafalgar Square (car park) we backtracked to Tate Britain to see Fiona Banner's 'Harrier and Jaguar'. I was inwardly delighted to find that photography was not prohibited; indeed, it was prolific. However, it was a nightmare dealing with the open jawed, shuffling dullards who lingered in front of potential shots with no regard for the many camera users. A large number of people were using only mobile phones as cameras. A camera phone should be a contingency, not a primary device. These people needed to be cleared out and sent to take predictable tourist and family shots in the hot spots.

Our next destination was St Pancras. I used to live in Bedford and used this station intensely in the late 70s and early 80s. It was, to say the least, a poor relation to adjacent Kings Cross. The trainshed was famous but grimy and tired. The transformation is beyond belief and takes the station irreversibly into the 21st century. The roof restoration is stunning, the statuary wonderful (in spite of Antony Gormley's reported derision) and the shops and restaurants excellent. Our lunch food in Camden Food Co. was very good. My chicken salsa salad was delicious and my raspberry brulee outstanding. It is in fact very difficult to photograph trains but there was so much else for my lens. It appears in my 'Visions of St Pancras' set at http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram/

Our final destination on a busy day was Trafalgar Square where we viewed the ship in a bottle on the fourth plinth and, of all things, a temporary maze. I had to reflect that London's service buses (as opposed to visitors) seem very dull. Visiting London is not cheap. Our core costs for today were Congestion Charge £8, Parking £17 and Travelcards £11.20 quite apart from food, petrol etc, etc. My photographs were (to me) priceless. After all that was good and all that was bad, how could I not love it?

The Lost Symbol - Dan Brown

However much I want a book I rarely fail to wait for the paperback so I started reading The Lost Symbol only recently. The hardback launch was amusing enough for me to photograph it at the time - I think I was in Vancouver, maybe Palm Springs. It is important to remember that a large part of Brown's output reached best seller status only after the phenomenal success of The DaVinci Code.

By the time Lost Symbol reached the shops in a welter of apparent over supply, the snipers were ready. I observed the reviews and decided to reserve judgement for my eventual and inevitable purchase. I am reminded that criticism, negative or otherwise and across the cultural spectrum is best validated, or moderated by personal, first hand experience.

I am glad then that I ignored the literary snobbery and opened the pages of this new volume for myself. I am now only on page 118 - nearly 119 - and I am gripped. It was described as silly and worse but it is no sillier than von Daeniken and flows considerably better. It is entertainment and it works for me. In my busy (if unimportant) life, it is worth setting aside a few minutes here and there to rejoin what Michael Palin might call a "ripping yarn". I am enjoying it and I think you would too.

Sharwood's Side Dishes

For those of you who enjoy food and Indian food in particular I have to recommend Sharwood's Side Dishes as an accompaniment to food eaten at home.
Various familiar dishes are presented in microwavable pouches containing two portions. They could be dreadful but they are not. We tried Tarka Dahl and Saag Aloo. The portions were well judged, the contents delicious. They are maybe a little liquid perhaps to facilitate speedy heating but texture and flavour are fine. These products are a worthy addition to your next Indian meal.

Scotland Holiday - Day 5

The drive home began under more dark skies and the A702 proved a particularly effective way to get to get to the M74. At Gretna services I was shocked and saddened to open the Times and learn of the death on July 28th of Chris Dagley the drummer in the house trio at Ronnie Scott's. We saw him perform there only on May 9th; his motorcycle accident has cut short a talented life.

We drove on to Kendal and found a very attractive town with a testing one way system imposed on it I suppose by its age and bridge-rich infrastructure. Falling rain did not alter the fact that this was the Lake District in the first week of August and it was busy. We were there to visit the Loneliness of Lowry exhibition at Abbot Hall. I went specifically to see "The Derelict House" and also very much enjoyed "A Ship" (1965) and "Seascape" (1952). We both appreciated two Hepworths one inside and one out.

Oval Form 'Trezion' - Barabara Hepworth Abbot Hall, Kendal

Lunch at the cafe was excellent but I struggled a bit with the dullard boy at the till. He was English but did not appear to speak English at least not any of the words on the menu. I find that physical violence sometimes aids understanding but can also lead to arrest so I persevered. I am very pleased with my new high vis jacket - new in the sense that it came out of the packet which it has been in for 2-3 weeks since I bought it. It is meant to be a passport to wider transport photography opportunities. It did not work today at Stagecoach's Kendal garage.

Leaving Kendal via a joyous circuit of its elaborate roads we continued off motorway to Carnforth. I was there to see stored DRS locomotives and was not disappointed but there was so much more for me to see in a long visit. Once again I ended up with a set of photographs I am very pleased with.

We covered a lot of motorway today and saw a lot of people speeding. I reflected on the types of vehicle which do this. They fall broadly into two categories; one is the type of car people buy specifically to speed in, Subarus, Evos, certain BMWs and so on. Their drivers probably have DSD - dick size deficiency. More worrying are the cars in which speeding is entirely inappropriate as to do so clearly exceeds several design limits. At speeds in excess of 80mph a car with an engine of 1.4l ot even less must surely shake itself to pieces in the course of a long journey. Another mystery is that many of these are driven by women. It is not that women can't drive but I do wonder how anyone who can spend so long in one shop can get from Carlisle to Stafford in only 40 minutes.

At Cherwell Valley they have replaced (presumably temporarily) the buildings destroyed by fire earlier this year with a new facility which is essentially a giant portakabin. It is actually pretty impressive and if you ignore the eerily exposed HVAC and temporary stadium style steps, it is quite attractive.

Any sunshine today was sporadic and although it was generally brighter and drier as we moved south, dark cloud, rain and suicidal storm bugs pursued us for most of the journey. It has been a good break and yet there is still so much to look forward to. In Carnforth it will always be two o'clock.

Scotland Holiday - Day 4

My blog continues in spite of the deafening indifference of my target audience. It keeps me happy. Grey cloud was, I suppose, inevitable at the start of the day as was the rain which then fell for much of the morning. We went into Edinburgh primarily to reconnoitre where I would meet a friend later. With parking at a premium and the city's topography probably unique as roads pass under or over exactly where you want to be, preparedness was essential. Greg rested at the complicated and busy Waverley station while I ventured on to Princes Street to watch buses. This has to be one of the busiest places I have seen anywhere for buses and the Lothian fleet is distinguished by its apparently young average age and attractive colour schemes. There are two principle schemes with variations, usually route based.

Rain and time won the opening game of the day and we needed to be back at the hotel before my afternoon excursion. I noted the absolutely pathetic lack of progress with the tram system confined, it seems, to an isolated stretch of track along Edinburgh's most famous thoroughfare and for which little , I gather, inordinate disruption took place. Those responsible should be shot. Any who survive should be shot again. We got lost on the way back, recovered, and had a light lunch.

As with many big cities the only way to park is legally, without a limited term unless you are sure of your movements and pay what it costs. I chose the Waverley car park which at least afforded me a view of the station's comings and goings. My friend proved to be a remarkably good guide. This is slightly bizarre as he is Singaporean but knows Edinburgh much better than I do. He has the advantage of me having studied there. The culmination of our walk up Calton Hill for its wonderful views of the Forth and the city was that I became, at last, a fan of Edinburgh. I have never much liked the place, preferring Glasgow and I still wonder why its buildings can not be much cleaner. But today I could only be impressed by the vistas even as persistent cloud dulled my photographs and I left wanting to return.

For my image today, I have chosen an entirely unoriginal but classic view of Princes Street. You have to see it.......

Scotland Holiday - Day 3

There was indeed sunshine on Leith but it did not survive our visit to The Royal Yacht Britannia. The rain when it came was torrential and the worst we have had on this holiday. It was too late to spoil an excellent day which made me tired and happy in equal measure. I ended up with a huge number of photographs and, consequently, a huge task to name them and, where relevant, to upload them.

The Heart of Scotland services on the M8 leaves a lot to be desired in many ways but its Wild Bean Cafe served adequate food and I noted the availability of free Wi-Fi which we did not use. It was there too that I once again received a favourable impression of Scottish service and could not help feeling in the back of my mind that it would not be so warm in many places down south. The Wild Bean girl was very helpful in pointing out a beakfast special offer which reduced my bill. On my first night the ticket office man at Glasgow Central photocopied the Roundabout map for me - I don't think information services extend that far where I live. Only this morning, our concierge was extremely helpful (pivotal as it turned out in the success of my day) in providing directions to a subway station. Later, in our Edinburgh hotel a coach driver offered to move his vehicle to get me a better photograph. All these actions I have recorded were sincere and their warmth leaves a lasting impression.


Armed only with a small illustrated article in the August edition of Buses magazine, I set out to find two murals (of buses). Instinct and the limited information in the article told me that they would be near Kelvinbridge subway station but to cover my bets I went first to another West End location on the River Kelvin. It proved almost to be a convincing red herring being outside the now closed Transport Museum but consultation with some local walkers pointed me at the Kelvinbridge location of my original surmise. I entered Kelvingrove Park uncertain of where exactly to look but was soon overwhelmed by the scale of what I found. Far beyond the two bus images were a vast series of beautifully executed murals covering a wide array of modes of transport. The quality of the art by street artist Sam Bates is stunning and appears in full at my Flickr photostream http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram/. In some images motorcycles appear to leap from the local greenery; others recall bygone eras in a highly evocative fashion. I just kept on clicking - thank goodness for digital and no need to change films.
I left Glasgow very happy indeed and the subdued weather yielded to some decent sunshine. This enhanced to the fullest effect Water of Leith which is one of the most beautiful stretches of water I have seen. We saw it first in the environs of the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art where we had parked to begin our pursuit of the six figures in Antony Gormley's '6 Times'. Figure one, partially buried, is easy to find and the second in a setting of impossible beauty below and behind the gallery. The venue held us for a while longer for an outstanding lunch and the Gilbert & George in Room 20. The hunger and thirst satisfied in the Gallery Cafe were very different from those in the works of the artists. I had the vegetarian dish which was just excellent and Greg enjoyed his soup of fennel and sweet potato.


It was evidently going to be physically demanding to pursue the figures in Gormley's work but number three did not elude us. It was a different story though at the ostensible site of figure 4 besides St Mark's Park. Our puzzlement at its apparent absence was dispelled by a local who revealed that the figure was submerged due in part to a design fault in its base. We returned to its location and could barely discern its form but no meaningful photograph could be taken. We learned that figure 5 is similarly submerged and decided to proceed directly to Leith Docks.

Our timing allowed us to photograph the melancholic figure 6 and visit the Royal Yacht Britannia. The sunshine was now struggling and furious skies formed the background to my pictures at the visitor centre. The historic ship is extremely interesting and beautifully presented but during our tea break in the elegant Royal Deck Tea Room the rain set in so heavily as to cause us to discontinue our visit in favour of a return at a later date.











In the evening a 40 minute wait at Toby seemed unreasonable so we walked a little further to the rather low-key St John's Curry Club at 100 St John's Road, Corstorphine, Edinburgh. The food was very good but served slowly and inaccurately. Poppadums did not arrive and Greg's main course was completely different to what he had ordered. The rain continued and I returned to my laptop.