Goodwood

My friend, colleague and furtive aesthete Mike Turner was the inspiration for today's visit to Goodwood. On a day (or at least half a day) of glorious weather sandwiched between what is more usual at this time of year and has, as I recall, been usual for much of this year to date. 'Make haste while the sun shines' may well be the correct version of something misheard hundreds of years ago in a more agrarian age to which my wanderings seemed to return me today. The whole Goodwood area is absolutely beautiful and all that I saw whether of this age or not, uplifted me although I was to be deflated later.

I went first to the aerodrome and received a warm welcome which facilitated photography. I was particularly interested to see the number of aircraft from the Manx registry there. With a Mum and a boyfriend waiting in the car I promised myself a more lingering visit in the future.

Our main objective was the Cass Sculpture Foundation http://www.sculpture.org.uk/ and I was excited before I even reached its gates. It has outlying displays at The Goodwood Hotel and one can hardly imagine a sculpture more exciting than Diane Maclean's 'Encampment' - especially in this morning's light.

The park setting of the Cass is stunning and, although lighting can appear difficult for some pieces, the sylvan setting serves to provide different lights at different times of the year and ignites more in the photographer than it defeats. Unfortunately the paths do not lend themselves to the pushing of a wheelchair and Mum was again in the car as my recovering Gregory joined me on a surprisingly physical culture trail. I became culturally and physically exhausted and we had covered only half of the park to which we must return in its next season. I can  not praise it enough and, as if there were not enough within its boundaries, the views across the Sussex countryside were wonderful. At the time of writing I have to complete my latest Flickr set 'Cass Sculpture Foundation' but it is already well worth a visit at www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram . I have produced a body of work worthy of that in the collection.

Sadly it was a bit downhill from there. Goodwood House, an edifice of great beauty, has limited opening times and today was not one. We had hoped to eat there but landed instead in a Chichester Harvester where the food was value for money but the prices were low. Our waitress was quite charming in a thronged restaurant but we all felt let down by the mass produced fare. It appeared to me that tomorrow's weather - certainly the cloud part of it - arrived prematurely and there was an early end to the sunshine. With Mum safely at home our last stop was at the site of Bus Rapid Transit - also extensively documented on my Flickr - but my latest photography was curtailed by rain. It was nearly curtailed rather more dramatically when I discoverd that wearing my hi-vi jacket did not stop me walking into a (rapidly) moving car.

As I was not actually run over I shall be at work on Saturday.

East Anglia Tour - Day 5

The dawn brought more bad weather and this together with the continuing and frustrating poor internet connectivity, made it an easy decision to go home. Instinctively though, we felt that Norwich was a city worth bothering with and we would not leave the area without seeing it. Inevitably we went to the station first and I enjoyed myself. I doubt there are many more imposing exteriors in Britain. Moving the car to Castle Mall, we began our exploration of the centre. I loved the juxtaposition of the modern but sympathetic lift shaft and the much older castle it serves. I also loved the decorative style of Royal Arcade and its Colman's Mustard shop. Proceeding through the market, an unusual fixed market, we came across an unexpected photographic bonanza in front of City Hall and The Forum. The Norfolk Constabulary had received the freedom of the City of Norwich in December of last year and today held a ceremonial parade with an exhibition of police vehicles and related items. It was an ideal opportunity to feed Flickr. On our attempted escape from the city I noticed three Class 66s (my favourite class) stabled at the station and stopped to photograph them in poor light.

The A11 seemed like a good road of motorway standards in places but tiresomely punctuated by roundabouts especially around Thetford. We ate at Little Chef, Barton Mills. We wanted to drive through London  to check hotel locations for a future visit. Traffic was surprisingly heavy for a Sunday and, south of the river, traumatically so. It was exciting to see the Olympics site under construction and apparently closer to completion than the Commonwealth Games equivalent in Delhi - which is needed at the end of this week. The velodrome particularly caught my eye.

Bicycles were of relevance for a completely different reason in south London and that reason must by characterised as a Boris cock-up. I am not against the bike hire scheme (if the sandal fits, wear it) but the resulting visual pollution of this ostensibly green initiative has to be seen to be believed and is genuinely offensive. I had read as much in a recent newspaper article and it is indeed true. For some inexplicable reason the cycle lanes (in which you are about as likely to see a bike as a bus in a 24hr bus lane) are painted in a vivid blue. That is inappropriate enough but some of the 'holds' at junctions are still in the older (and frankly more appropriate and pleasing green). A further clash is caused where bus lane coincides with cycle lane to produce a long side by side streak of red and blue. If you did this to your house you would be immediately arrested and your house demolished by the aesthetics police. The traffic conditions and low light precluded any photographs of this ugliness.

East Anglia Tour - Day 4

Bad weather plagued an otherwise enjoyable day and, back at the hotel, poor connectivity hampered my attempts to keep my fans in touch with a life that makes Karl Pilkington look ordinary. We went first to Norwich Airport, briefly visiting the terminal before driving round to Horsham St Faith (the village for which the erstwhile RAF station was named) and the City of Norwich Aviation Museum. It was on a par with Dumfries and the welcome was warm. The exhibits were interesting but one must wonder what is the future for all these museums. I value the preservation work they do but funds are limited and some of them teeter on the verge of being scrap yards with some items unable to receive attention. I very much dislike (in all forms of transport preservation) when an example of something is made up as another - with a false identity - as with one of the Hunters here today. What made the visit was getting (paid) access to the cockpit of their Vulcan. It was very moving. The last time I was in a Vulcan was during its service and on the occasion of one of its dispersals to Bedford on exercise. I lived the end of the Cold War and to watch the QRA exercise, even knowing that it was such, on radar was a very affecting experience. Our V-bomber crews had a grim and probably suicidal task to perform. I was also able to photograph some of the aircraft on Norwich airport proper. Viciously heavy showers driven by a strong wind made it hard work.

That wind would greet us in Cromer also but on the way there we stopped at Aylsham for the delightful Bure Valley Railway. The 15" system runs from there to Wroxham and its locomotives are wonderful. My photographs were enhanced by an authorised, accompanied foray through the workshop. I am grateful for the hospitality. In Cromer, to walk near the sea was, to say the least, bracing. We found a haven in the more central Cafe Main where simple lunch food was very good. I could not see any reason to live in Cromer.

There was better to come. Discouraging though the weather was, we continued to Sheringham for the North Norfolk Railway which runs from the original station, separated from the rather prosaic modern equivalent by a crossing. The visit was an absolute delight. I was quite moved just by watching their Class 25 locomotive perform. Just like the Vulcan it stirred memories and made me sad inside as well as happy. At my age I have seen too much; I remember too much. Too often I am aware of how much of my life is behind me and how little ahead and I want to cry. Sometimes, for a moment, I do so. I waited for a second train to arrive from and return to Holt. It was hauled by 0-6-2T 5619 which, in British Railways green, is the most beautiful tank engine I have ever seen. It exuded character and was enhanced by the maroon stock it was pulling.

In the evening we made our first trip into Norwich itself along with much of the local population. The car park has a nightmare design and I was profoundly glad to be entering which was relatively easy compared to joining the extraordinary queue to leave. We declined Frankie and Bennies' offer of a 45 minute wait and went instead to Bella Italia. I don't wait for restaurants (at least not more than 10 minutes). In our chosen venue we were well treated and served quickly at a busy time but I was tempted to remind them that risotto is meant to be moist but not to the extent that soup is moist.

I finished The Lost Symbol and have, I am afraid, to dilute my earlier praise. The larger part of the book is, as I have previously recorded, a great adventure story but the last few chapters really lose their way almost as though Brown had changed tack before completing the novel. It peters out in rambling irrelevance which appears to be an inappropriate advertisement for Christianity.

Talking of irrelevant, Ed Miliband won the Labour Party leadership thus clearing the way for his banana wielding brother to lie doggo for years of futile opposition whilst Ed loses at least one election and eventually the leadership. David may well have to reverse an Ed-led drift to the left to have any chance of displacing the Conservatives with our without their allies of convenience.

East Anglia Tour - Day 3

In the fenlands in the morning the sky stooped to touch the earth  and curtains of rain swept across a sullen landscape. It was then, with little joy that we left Huntingdon for our first destination, March. There were breaks in the rain but it was a cold day and we wore coats for the first time in a long while. Forays from the car were possible but poor light threatened satisfactory photography even when the rain did not. My discomfort was heightened by the lingering and cumulative effects of too much recent chillied food. Several things caught my eye in March but our main destination there was the station. In fact we spent enough time there to eat into our schedule and this combined with the weather which turned nastier again, meant that we did not visit Peterborough but went straight to Stamford. That is an attractive town. Lunch with friends at The Cloisters was excellent; the food was of really good quality and I recommend the restaurant to anyone. It was a bit of a shock at the end of the meal when their PDQ machine failed and we were asked to pay in cash. By the banks of the River Nene geese were gathering, perhaps the vanguard of a bigger winter invasion. We could see there were two types and later determined that they were Canada and a minority of Greylag. How confusing that Greylag are pink footed; how amusing that these geese were beside a river called Nene. If you are not a goose fan you will have no idea what I am talking about.

The light was never kind but in our next stop of Kings Lynn the rather unspectacular town was brightened for me by one of the busiest bus stations I have seen and an incomparable vantage point (a multi-storey car park) from which to take photographs. Little more could be done now as the day died and only Friday evening traffic lay between us and our Norwich hotel. Norwich is a city of substantial size which we hope to explore better tomorrow. For this evening there was little to encourage us to leave the hotel. With its main restaurant busy, we ate in Zest Cafe and received a very pleasant surprise. We both ordered the potentially mundane pan-fried chicken with garlic-mushroom sauce and fries. It was beautifully cooked and presented and vegetable side dishes of equal quaility made the meal. The only irritation was a table of 11-12 rowdy alpha males competing loudly in unelocuted baritones between intakes of the cafe's entire stock of Corona. I like to think they weren't golfers - maybe some sort of very insignificant local football team.

East Anglia Tour - Day 2

Again today I looked back into the mists of time and this time found that I did not see much staring back. It is nearly 33 years since I moved to Bedford to live and work. It was my first posting as a licensed controller. For the first few weeks I lived with the friends we went to see today. Later I went to live in Rutland Road near the station and endured an incredible six years without central heating. Bedford will always have a special place in my heart because it was there, in the Barley Mow pub, that I met my boyfriend Greg. There is no-one whose company I would rather have today. He was brought up in Bedford which probably accounts for his greater clarity of recall than mine. I left Bedford in September 1983 and have returned only occasionally and fleetingly since. I found today that time had torn many of my memories from me. Furthermore, as love blossomed in 1978 and onwards I spent very little non-work time in Bedford as Greg was studying in London. Whatever the reason, I recognised little with confidence.

It is perhaps unfair to judge any place in the rain and the weather this morning was not pleasant but only emphasised I think the inherent dullness of an economically strained town. I was frustrated as the rain markedly restricted my photography.

We had a stimulating time with our friends and our pub lunch was very good value. Chris and I worked together at what was then RAE Bedford (Thurleigh/EGVW) and we went for a nostalgic drive in the afternoon for which the weather had cleared to become quite pleasant. A large part of the former airfield is now a race track (operated by MSV/PalmerSport) and more is used for vehicle storage. The eastern part of the main runway has recently become re-licensed as Bedford Aerodrome (EGBF). Some of the key buildings are still extant though it is now hard to imagine any of the former activities which ended in 1994 a long time even after I had left. We had mixed fortunes trying to see our former haunts. The gate we used to use daily for work is long since defunct and effectively barricaded.

 On the main site a pleasant but entirely intransigent guard was not going to let us go anywhere. At Twinwoods there was a slightly more flexible approach which allowed an unofficial drive through to a subsidiary gate. I was interested to see that Red Bull Racing now use one of the wind tunnels.

It was a worthwhile excursion but in many ways the experience said to me 'you can't go back'.

East Anglia Tour - Day 1

Cambridge instinctively feels nicer than Oxford and it is not surprising that I should say that as a lifelong light blue – in the boat race that is, as I was not educated there. It looked pretty stunning in late afternoon sunshine but became the inevitable traffic nightmare as the evening rush built. Cambridge is an eclectic mix of students and sandal munchers; I am not liberally disposed towards cycling as a means of transport and when it is quite as prolific as it is there, any last vestige of liberalism rapidly evaporates. This is an awkward moment in my blog because several of my colleagues are avid cyclists and one at least I (not very secretly) worship. I can just about grasp cycling as a delightful leisure activity especially when conducted well away from motorists but my friends and half the population of Cambridge cycle to and from work or whatever it is that students do. Frankly, even body hugging lycra is not compensation enough for being stuck behind a wobbly obstruction especially when it is wired to a Muse Live album (or whatever it is that students listen to).

Cambridge came towards the end of a protracted itinerary today, driven in beautiful weather. It was deeply relaxing to have no specific timetable especially right at the start of the journey when we were trying to escape from Newgate Lane. The airport disappointed and seemed on a brief foray to be all but inaccessible – a Marshall’s compound. The station disappointed too as any kind of access was behind barriers and, as often is the case these days, so was the buffet. The striking Carter Bridge was some compensation; it carries pedestrians and cyclists () across the railway. I had two observations about the city’s traffic management. There are several confusing juxtapositions of red and green lights and the bus lanes, which I presume they wish you to observe, are very poorly marked with the road markings nearly obliterated by wear.
Before we crossed the Thames at the still anarchic Dartford Tunnel, we explored Gravesend and its environs. When you stare into the mists of time, sometimes something stares back but is indistinct, slightly out of focus. I first got the feeling on the M25 which I have driven thousands of times towards Gravesend. We looked around Ebbsfleet, a name which seemed simply to emerge when I was living in the area and is now appended to football club and, of course, International and domestic rail stations. We checked the ‘new’ alignment of the A2 completed since we moved south and processed through the town without, as it turned out, stopping. I realised that I could not photograph everything. We had lunch at Bluewater. There have been detail changes there mainly in franchises. It truly is a regional shopping centre now. This is the only rational explanation for the substantial crowds on an unexceptional term-time Wednesday. Lunch at Chopstix was served sloppily in a box but was delicious. The vending machine for Ben & Jerry’s ice cream was fascinating. Quite apart from the contents, the mechanism was wonderful. The casing essentially houses a chest freezer whose lid lifts after money is inserted and a selection made. Then a vacuum cleaner hose comes down and sucks out the correct carton before depositing it in the delivery chute. Delightful.

Back on the M25 at Clacket Lane services, I had been especially assertive. We were playing the £500 machines and I won a substantial amount of money. The machine failed during payout and slow to respond staff were not very keen on giving me my winnings. They wanted me to take a refund slip and wait for post that would probably never come. I told them that they would pay me before I left or I would call the police. They paid.

We arrived in Huntingdon a bit late and more than a little tired. The Marriott was fine; at least we’ll be earning more points. Wednesday must be a bit of a night in Huntingdon unless The Darjeeling in High Street has no other competition. It was, basically, full but thankfully only after we arrived. The food was unexceptional – Aloo Chat does not benefit from being served on a puri making it the Indian equivalent of a potato sandwich, but they certainly got top marks for speed of service. It nearly took me longer to get my breakfast McMuffin in McDonalds yesterday.......but then The Darjeeling did not have waterless urinal.

Prolific Yet Diverse

If yesterday brought a near hiatus in creativity then today it returned with renewed vigour. The weather was uncertain but eventually conceded a bright, beautiful afternoon and evening. In preparation for tomorrow's start of our East Anglian tour, I wanted to be away from stress and adding to what I leave behind when my soul ascends. Although, as I have previously intimated, I have a perpetual and changing list of (photographic) subjects I left the house in the afternoon with no fixed agenda but heading for a rather spendidly oxidised barn in Bursledon.

Even before I got there, I had taken photographs as diverse as a Harvard at Lee on Solent airfield and a urinal in a McDonalds. The barn/farm site and its environs kept me happy and I am particularly pleased with the bucolic image of horses grazing which is now at the head of this blog. Without dumping I was able to post a number of pictures on Flickr and sit back to await the usual silence. Still, in the silence I can hear my heart beat and then I know I am alive. My own reaction to the beauty around me confirms this. No wonder people want to believe in an afterlife - how could we ever be dead?
On our forthcoming tour we plan to take in as many as possible of Gravesend, Bluewater, Huntingdon, Cambridge, Bedford, Peterborough, Stamford, Ely, March, Kings Lynn and Norwich. Breathless? We will be. Watch for the results on this blog (voted by me 'Most Entertaining Blog Written in Lee on Solent, 2010'), on Facebook and, as ever, on my photostream at www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram

Uncanny or Depressing?

I decided to take Greg out tonight. We deserved a special meal to fit the celebratory mood of my leave. Naturally, I was going to drive. Greg said 'shall I drive'? Hmmm, I thought, that'll be interesting. He said he knew where we were going and wrote it on a slip of paper which he placed in his shirt pocket. WTF? When did he become Derren Brown?

He drove unerringly to the destination I had in mind, the Koh Thai restaurant (http://www.eatkohthai.com/) just outside Fareham. So, we don't need to talk to each other now; he just knows what I am thinking. Anyway, it is closed on Mondays so we returned to Fareham centre to try to go Cafe Tusk. It was closed for kitchen refurbishment. We ate in Ask which is a decent chain. Arguably a little expensive, certainly for the starter, the food was excellent and served charmingly by a pretty Slovakian lady.

In an attempt to keep my blogs readable I sometimes abbreviate them but this is not always intentional and interesting bits get missed out. At the wedding reception on Saturday there were two occurrences of note which I forgot that evening. Guests were entertained in the lobby by close up magic which was outstanding. I first experienced this at the Criterion restaurant in London's West End. Tonight, as then, I was as close as I could be without touching. The tricks were jaw dropping; misdirection at its most excellent. I thought I was watching but I saw impossible things happen. We both had what Hollywood likes to know as 'wardrobe malfunctions', the price to pay, I suppose, for buying cheaply. Historically, we have not liked to buy expensive dinner dress because we use it only infrequently and cannot guarantee not to outgrow it.

On Sunday, returning from Southampton, my eye was caught by an unfamilar car. Marked 'WiLL Cypha' (sic) it piqued my curiosity. It turns out that it is a 2003+ Yaris derivative; had you ever heard of it?

Today, I took only one photograph. I had been rather intimidated earlier by some Flickr statistics. Over the weekend the site's 5 billionth photograph was uploaded - members upload 3000 a minute. What kind of servers do they have? I wonder if they use cloud technology, a fascinating concept which does not seem yet to have taken off for individual use. I think I now understand why my photographs find it hard to get viewed. However, I was asked to add one today to the improbable group 'Chinese Restaurant Worldwide Documentation Project'. I swear that is true (look on my photostream). I had taken a photograph of my local takeaway as part of my own documentation of Lee on Solent. You may be reassured to know that the group does not accept photographs of establishments in China or Taiwan where, one would imagine, there are a lot of Chinese restaurants.

ASDA - Greens and Reds

Since our middle years in Gravesend when ASDA was very much second fiddle to Sainsburys, the chain has matured into something quite different. Whatever ones natural aversion to green fleeces, those who wear them are well trained in customer service and they now sell some very good food. We have recently bought and consumed some excellent products from ready meals to individual white chocolate and raspberry cheesecake. Where they fail though is in service to themselves. I check fastidiously each bill mainly to make sure that the special offers have been properly processed. The number of times I have had to go to the customer service desk for rectifications is countless. This is costing them money to the extent that it is advantageous to me that they make such frequent mistakes. Each time I am overcharged, I get a refund of the difference plus £2 on a gift card - that is expensive. Today on a mistake with bread rolls, I got a FULL refund and the £2. If I were the manager I would be concerned; if I were his/her manager I'd be booking a conversation. This is a simple matter of process management. Products should never reach the shelves without audited assurance that the correct information is in the computer driving the tills. I have learned that the floor team changing the shelf-edge tickets works slightly out of synch with the upstairs team managing the data. This is exacerbated especially on Mondays - price change day. If I were them I'd fix this. In the meantime, I keep collecting the gift cards.

An Afternoon With Tom Hanks

For all that he is renowned, I have never felt the urge to watch any particular Tom Hanks film except The Streets of Philadelphia which was delicately politicised and personally meaningful. I have not seen Big or Forrest Gump and, until this afternoon, when I happened to become embroiled with Sky Movies' Tom Hanks season, I had seen neither Splash nor Castaway. Although my viewing was interrupted, I saw most of both today. Both are quite engaging but neither made me more of a Tom Hanks fan.

The weather was not as promising as I had hoped but it did not actually rain. We went to Bursledon Brickworks for our third visit of the year and today's WWII themed open day. It was the busiest event we have seen there and I enjoyed the exhibits as shown now on my photostream at www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram . I left though with an unexpectedly heavy heart and a lesson learned. I had gone to great lengths to exclude people from or minimise their effect upon my photographs. I shot appropriate subjects in sepia and formed one potentially brilliant composition as we were leaving. I became so preoccupied with the background - and making sure people were not in it - that I failed to observe my own knuckles reflected in the mirror I was using as part of the shot. I have been able to publish only a heavily cropped version of what I intended. The day ended in Southampton with a more successful shot of a prominent building.

Capital House, Southampton

Buffets Make Me Very Nervous

There is a part of us all which is still animal instinct and tells us that we should eat food when it is presented and before it is consumed by a rival. Then there is the part of us which was brought up by decent parents; that is the part which makes us wait for someone else to go to the buffet first at a social event even when the loaded skins are getting cold. As someone whose life is guided substantially by his stomach and its needs, buffets make me very nervous.

We spent the evening at the Holiday Inn, Fareham for a happy event. Our friends Paula and Gary Gibson have reached their 25th wedding anniversary - a laudable achievement these days - and marked it with a renewal of vows. They probably need only to look at their lovely daughters to see what a success their marriage has been . The guests included many familiar faces from the NERC Project and my subsequent assignment at Centre Place. With 36 years service behind me I struggled a bit with surnames but managed most of the first names. It was a very nice event and I can readily imagine Paula and Gary celebrating their second 25 years in due course. It was a privilege to be invited.

The night shifts although not unpleasant had taken their toll and I needed more sleep during the day than I had anticipated. However, we did make it out on a beautiful afternoon and I got some photographs with which I am very pleased. As I travel around even on my trundlings to and from work I make a mental list of potential subjects and themes. I am working my way through them but, of course, the list will never end. There is so much inspiration from friends, contacts and the world at large. Now I hope the weather and inspiration will last into my leave. Tomorrow, we plan to go yet again to Bursledon Brickworks, this time for a WWII themed open day. Look out for my sepia output.

A Weak End

It was another thought provoking day at both national and personal levels. I was relieved from work 45 minutes early which was welcome but the next four years will be at best tedious and at worst ghastly. If I ever win the Euromillions they'll be lucky to get 30 seconds notice. I'll be gone; I won't be looking back. It was a nice day and I felt very frustrated to be headed for bed but necessarily so. My efforts of last night meant that I have a minimal workload tonight and can look forward to my two weeks leave with considerable enthusiasm. I am certain that our East Anglian destinations will produce plenty of interest and photographs. I continue to savour digital photography and am already considering my upgrades with the arrival of the exciting Panasonic FZ-100 foremost in my mind.

The Pope was in London today. I am not going to launch another attack on this flawed Hitler Jugend alumnus but I will say I object vigorously and always have, to the effects on our big cities of State visits and similar large occasions. The disruption to the population at large is, in this modern, mobile age, completely unacceptable. The Queen, The Prime Minister and their overseas peers should be made to experience exactly the same delays as the rest of us. They and their movements should not be afforded a status which creates an entirely false impression of their importance and relevance.

Yesterday, the head of MI5 made a speech carefully crafted to renew fear and suspicion amongst the gullible and to reinforce the justifications for the continuing existence of myriad intelligence gathering organisations and their nasty activities. If pressed, I probably wouldn't deny the existence of evil people who wish some or all of us harm but I am certain that the threat is elaborately exaggerated by the government and their agencies all to further their own dark and oppressive agendas. At least we understand that Jihadists and renegade Irish terrorists mean us harm even if we don't quite understand what they hope to achieve when the sane amongst us realise that they will never succeed. With the dark forces that lie behind our governments it is much less clear what they want to achieve but the mantra of the safety and wellbeing of the general population is only a facade.

With or without (artificially) elevated security concerns, the Olympics are going to be an absolute nightmare. I shall not be going anywhere near them. In yesterday's speech, MI5 head Jonathan Evans at least had the honesty to remind people that there is no such thing as 100% security and warned that "the British public were 'deluding' themselves if they thought that the extremists would never be successful". This is a rare bit of healthy thinking in his unhealthy world. So, the next time there is a 9/11, a 7/7 or whatever glib media created digits are used to sanitise mans inhumanity to man lets suck it up and get on with living. Let us not initiate another turgid, protracted, lawyer-bonus enquiry to last four years to conclude that 'shit happens'.

In between waves of fatigue, I got out today to pursue one or two photographic concepts I had but I was not vey pleased with the results. It was a weak end to a busy week.

Trivial and Less Trivial

The morning of the day before a night duty started with a foray to the Vauxhall garage for a minor repair. Waiting for the car afforded an opportunity to eat an ASDA breakfast. It was undeniably good value at £3 and the ingredients were reasonable but it was not very hot and served lethargically. With a little forethought and a set process they could have got the butter out of the fridge as they opened so that they were not dispensing bullet hard portions during business. Nevertheless, there is great pleasure to be derived from eating a cooked breakfast as slowly as rapidly cooling eggs allow and browsing The Times.

It was an important news day as it saw the arrival of the Pope in Edinburgh. I imagine only Osama bin Laden might have been less welcome. The pontiff has been controversially awarded a state visit. At a time of multiple controversies for the extensively discredited church, this does not sit well with many people. The realities are that, in a time of spreading secularism, the precepts of any mainstream religion are becoming increasingly inappropriate and irrelevant. A separate and complex debate lies behind the supposed moral values of any of the leading faiths although I would concede that, interpreted generously, they have some merits. None of these faiths has implemented the values they espouse with great success or consistency across the ages. None has failed more spectacularly, especially in recent times, than the Catholic Church and no wonder given the tenacious way in which it clings to completely unfounded and anachronisitic philosophies.

This is a church which condemns masturbation but conceals child abuse. This is a church which devalues women in both church and society thus placing itself on a level with more primitive beliefs. This is a church of immeasurable wealth in a world of often incomprehensible poverty. This is a church which forbids birth control in countries which struggle to feed and house their existing populations thus condemning both adults and children to suffering never conceived of God. This is a church blinded to the realities of the modern age and, indeed, the realities of the universe by dogma; dogma for the sake of power, oppression, politics and corruption both moral and financial.

And yet today, its leader moves amongst us, moves amongst the dwindling and deluded faithful with all the fanfare afforded a head of state. Look into his eyes and seek warmth and compassion. You will see neither. These are qualities born of intrinsic humanity not the by-products of faith. If the bible tells us one thing of value it is (to paraphrase) 'do as you would be done by'. To live this moral requires only that you be a decent human being which the Pope, a self-proclaimed messenger of God, is not. Live as your heart guides you and care for your fellow man. This requires only instinct and no false professions of faith.

Good Morning 4 - 13 September 2010

Good Morning 4 - 13 September 2010
Originally uploaded by John Oram

Every day the sun rises. Sometimes we see it, sometimes we do not. On occasion, even on the way to work, it brings inspirational joy. Joy worth stopping for.

A Tension Deficit

For the first time in a long while all my sources of (often irrational) anxiety and therefore stress, have dissipated. A morning as Watch Supervisor passed as pleasantly as possible. As I headed home I had much more energy than usual although I must admit my early start caught up with me soon after I reached the house. As Greg's head was hurting more than usual today we both observed much of the blue afternoon from the living room but even that inspired a photograph. We went out for excelllent Indian food at the Lee Tandoori and I captured a sunset.
Greg did well on the machines in our otherwise rather dismal amusement arcade. It will appear in one of my future photographs because, believe it or not, it is housed in the former Lee on the Solent station building. In just a few days we shall embark on a short tour of East Anglia and soon thereafter leave for Palm Springs. I feel good.

Submarine Museum - Gosport

Even after 12 years in Gravesend, it is only now that I live in Lee on the Solent close to my place of birth and home town that I feel my life has some stability, that I am not in some sort of state of perpetual motion. I shall retire in four years and expect to stay in this general area. Greg receives regular property advertisements and today we went to look for a house in nearby Alverstoke. Reluctant to return home for an afternoon of inertia, we went on an unplanned visit to the Royal Navy Submarine Museum.

With no long journeys to and from work any more I have been able to make better use of my plentiful leisure time and I have often been surprised and delighted with attractions exceeding my sometimes subdued expectations. Today was such a day. Dull weather was no deterrent to enjoyment of an excellent attraction. The exhibits and galleries are very good and, even before one boards HMS Alliance, Holland 1, the Royal Navy's first submarine makes an absorbing sight. Alliance is admittedly in a sorry state and is the subject of a restoration appeal (part funded by the Heritage Lottery Fund) but the guided tour was brought to life by the profoundly engaging Soapy Watson a retired submariner of nearly 80 who kept my attention for well beyond 45 minutes and could have kept it for much longer. I left entirely uplifted.




My photographs are at www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram

And I Will Always Love You

And I Will Always Love You
Originally uploaded by John Oram

Discovering the Perfectly Normal

For all that I am privileged to travel to many amazing places beyond the UK, I am increasingly aware of the attractions of my own country. This awareness has been heightened by our partial confinement to the isles as Greg's leg recovers. Flickr is an important part of my life now and, as well as showcasing some excellent photographs, it is a source of inspiration for themes. Flickr contact 'tatraskoda' has extensively photographed Gainsborough, presumably his home town. In one sense the pictures mean little to me as I don't know the place but, at the same time, they fascinate as a carefully constructed record.


The things by which we are surrounded, those parts of our everyday lives, are the easiest to overlook. There is little incentive to photograph them; if we do not, they change or disappear. For many years after the disposal or at least discarding of my SLR, I did not have a camera. When the advantages of digital became evident I saw so many things as potential subjects. It still took time though to turn to the familiar - where I live and where I have lived. I know what I have missed and am determined to miss no more. The task is not to shoot indiscriminately but to capture aspects of the perfectly normal in a way which contains interest. Sometimes that interest will become apparent only with the passage of time.


If you want to understand what I mean, study some historical photographs especially of places you know. You will see things, places, people that have gone forever. They are, save for those images, beyond obliteration. There is no trace in the present day and a visit to the subject location reveals nothing. Such is the value of our photographs.

I have started with Lee on the Solent, Havant, Fareham, Gosport and Chichester. I won't be flooding my photostream but I hope what I do post will be appreciated.

A Long Twilight and a Wet Night

It was, as it had been in the south yesterday, a grey-yellow light which defined nothing and dulled the mind of the photographer. The day, in the course of which we moved back south again, would see changing light and changing weather. Dressed soberly we drove to Kilwinning. Funerals are no longer shocking. At my age, death becomes part of life; truly the humanist view as reflected in the service which saw Ruth to her rest. Far more uncomfortable though was the foray with the family into the now abandoned home. The image of a life frozen at the moment of death, of possessions no longer possessed, was striking. We are all transient. It was evident that the family had spoken well to the humanist speaker as the service captured perfectly a life lived quietly but which added value to the existence of others including those of us who remain - until our time. The view from the crematorium chapel was one of stunning beauty and, as much as anything else, caused me to choke up. The brief family wake was in the dourly Scottish Taylor's in Kilwinning. Their entrance is a time portal. Before we left for the funeral, a steam locomotive in LMS colours had rattled south, symbolising how time wraps round on itself.

The weather offered hope for the camera as we headed for Dumfries to investigate further things we had seen on the way to Irvine but not stopped for. Far away though England was we spent time in several locations all with very happy results. All are now on my Facebook page and at Flickr www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram .
The rhinos at Lincluden are totally incongruous but charming. The Dumfries & Galloway Aviation Museum is magnificent. Thanks to the kindness of John Hilsley, I had access on a non-public day and got some wonderful photographs. I was very emotional to be allowed into Trident G-AWZJ, withdrawn in 1985 but still partially extant. My photographs of it today add a dimension to my Flickr set 'Demise of the Tridents'. We had not finished in Dumfries and stopped again at Dalscone Farm. A lot of effort and investment has gone into providing a low-priced but very worthwhile attraction. We went to see alpaca and llama and were relieved that the hoards of children were apparently satisfied with the indoor play area. Perhaps they had seen the animals earlier on. As with Blooms in Wroughton the animals were difficult to photograph. Most were eating and therefore with heads to the ground. In the case of the goats, when they are not eating, they are planning to and the approach of any potential source of food excites them.





We maintained variety by taking the Lockerbie road to regain the A74(M) . There was so much we could have photographed but we stopped only for food and fuel. In the North West and Midlands it rained heavily as forecast and driving conditions became difficult. At Norton Canes I recouped my earlier losses and went into profit. It was near midnight when we reached home and I sat up to do my initial processing. Life had continued for the living.

The World Turned Upside Down

It was always going to be a challenge driving something like 460 miles today only to do the return journey tomorrow after the probably stressful event of a funeral. I was sharing the driving with Greg and trying not to think about the distance except in positive terms as we passed various metaphorical milestones. It was one of those grey-yellow skies in the south and one which deposited occasional if somewhat translucent showers from deceptively high cloud.

Sutton Scotney was crowded when we arrived and we continued instead to Chieveley. It would not have been my first choice for breakfast but, to be fair, the food, served charmlessly by listless late teens, tasted better than it looked. Our stomachs were revived but our wallets depleted by our latest brush with the fruit machines - no £500 today. I don't know what I expect at 90% payout but I must have still had some expectations when I lost another £20 at Norton Canes. Thank goodness the toll is reduced at weekends.


There are more attractive service areas than Lancaster as I have alluded in an earlier post. In fact it is visually hideous and, inside, is inadequate and cramped. However, its M&S Food provides the best lunch you can have on a motorway. There was some beautiful weather to enhance both the Lake District and the south of Scotland and thus the world was turned upside down; it is not often these regions can offer better weather than the south which has had a dire non-summer.

I was not looking forward to the A75/76 variation to our usual journey, required because we would be staying in Irvine and not Glasgow but much of the route was very pretty. There were mining scars as well. I resented the speed limits for the several pointless linear towns with their drab cottage bungalows lining their main thoroughfares. Such were my thoughts as we passed through Sanquhar but as we left the worst of its dull centre behind we stopped for some surprising photographs which appear on my Photostream at www.flickr.com/photos/johnoram . That very stop delayed us enough to allow new cloud to encroach the Ayrshire sky so I had only a brief foray to the railway at Newton on Ayr and the merest glance at Prestwick Airport's tastelessly decorated terminal before continuing in the gloom to Irvine.

We found the Menzies Hotel with only a little driving but my first impressions made me wonder why exactly it has four stars. With no obvious lift and air conditioning which seems, to say the least, ineffective, it was set to lose one Oram star and see Oram star at Reception in one of his famed monologues. However, dinner revived their reputation. I must say the food was pretty good. Generous portions and good quality ingredients were served efficiently considering the presence in the restaurant of two large groups. The mainly teenage wait staff would not have been at all suitable for 'sulky breakfast' at Chieveley; they had evidently been to smile practice. Perhaps this was just one more manifestation of the good Scottish service I noted in my last blog from North of the border.


Tomorrow won't be easy but perhaps the mood will be lightened on the way back if we can photograph rhinos in Dumfries. We know it is possible and you will be none the wiser unless you read again tomorrow.