Waterside Brasserie

Perhaps wishing to adjust early to the anticipated luxury of our cruise, we decided to at eat the Waterside Brasserie, Lee on Solent. On the shore but slightly hidden, it is not as accessible as it might be. You need to know it is there. It does not have its own parking and the nearest ramp is completely unsuitable for wheelchairs. These can be safely propelled only from another access point some way away. The menu was enticing and tolerably priced. I felt virtuous to order a dressed crab salad and it was not bad but it is fair to say that the best feature of the dish was the, probably local, new potatoes. I have little experience of crab in the singular but the dark meat mix unintentionally reminded me of builders sand albeit more in appearance than texture. It was at least cheaper than my partner's salmon with fresh vegetables and that surprised me. A chocolate and chilli creme brulee was pretty spectacular with the infused heat subtle but distinct. Across the table, bread and butter pudding disappeared quickly even in a slightly over-sweet creme anglaise.

For above average food and unsurpassed Solent views, Waterside is worth a visit especially perhaps on one of these long evenings.

Food 7.5 out of 10; service 7 out of 10.

What A Difference A Day Makes

Had I written this yesterday, the day of most of the events recorded, the prose might have been much more heated. As it was I arrived home from London exhausted and a little deflated. I like to get things done and, at a late hour, I knew I could not process all my photographs (to my satisfaction), write a blog entry and get smart on Facebook. Without my notebook I could not even have held all my thoughts from the day. I am a great list and note maker. My mind is a little overactive and thoughts sometimes get lost. The weather on Monday was unsettled but excluded an early return to Mottisfont where, it appeared, lighting would be similar to yesterday. It was time to gamble; the first gamble was that it would be brighter later and further inland. With Ai Weiwei's 'Circle of Animals' at Somerset House closing on June 26th and my Norwegian Fjord Fiesta about to intervene, it seemed important, almost urgent, to get to London. I did not want bright sunshine in the Fountain Court; the harsh shadows it causes are not conducive to good photography of sculpture. I was tempted to go all the way by train (from Havant); it was as well that we did not. We drove the familiar A3 noting that the next time we do so we shall probably benefit from the soon to be opened Hindhead Tunnel. A journey to London these days is an expensive proposition with train fares on the one hand balanced by the congestion charge, parking and probably Travelcards on the other. We both thought of the same compromise at the same time, to avoid the congestion charge and seek lower parking charges by parking outside central London and using a Travelcard to complete the journey. We chose Kingston and this, at first, brought a bonus. Parking was fairly easy albeit in a typical NCP poorly designed and maintained edifice. Our choice of location brought us across David Mach's uplifting 'Out of Order' an installation of 'tumbling' telephone boxes which will shortly appear on my Flickr photostream. The challenge in photographing something so popular is to try to do something a little different. I have at least avoided the clutter some people don't seem to mind in their pictures. When you are using the viewfinder/EVF or LCD you can not cease to be aware what is going on at the periphery of the intended image or allow oneself to concentrate on the subject itself to the exclusion of what else will appear in frame.

Time was evaporating and we stayed in Kingston for lunch at 'Little Italy' which was not busy but, I think, deserved to be. Penne Arrabiata was a degree beyond a desirable al dente but the sauce was very good. Lunch prices make this centrally located Italian restaurant worth a visit. There are, improbably, some architectural gems in Kingston which I might previously have thought a potential candidate for Betjeman's 'friendly bombs'. These range from Quebec House to the old (1864) Police Station, now in alternative use. Now we were to learn why people are reluctant to use public transport. Kingston station is well presented and maintained but the journey from it was excruciating. The loop services are not fast anyway but our progress through London's dull suburbs seemed for a while to have the alacrity of an Indian hill train. The graffiti fom Barnes inwards is as shocking and depressing as any on the notorious approaches to Paris Gare du Nord. At least we picked up speed for a while but ultimately to no avail. We ground to a halt after Vauxhall, tantalisingly close to our destination. It took about 20 further minutes to reach Waterloo with only the 2 Class 08s in the Railway Children set of the former Eurostar terminal to distract. The guard gave us frequent but futile updates - about 'earlier signalling problems' - and these provided little comfort in a train with neither intercom nor toilets. Trains were moving all around us and we seemed to have been pathed for the least available platform at the terminus. Such was the need for a toilet on arrival that there was no time to berate the staff of either Network Rail or South West Trains. Sometimes piss comes before pissed off. To my considerable surprise the barriers in the toilet were open and the 30p fee waived. I would like to think that was in deference to the desperation of the delayed arrivals but it was more likely due to the fact that another small part of NR's shabby infrastructure, the change machine, was out of order. The return journey presented us with two options; return to Waterloo which clearly would not have recovered from the inept bumblings of Network Rail or, using our still decent knowledge of London's transport options, seek an alternative route to Kingston via Richmond. Unfortunately, we did both. Waterloo, although well provided with 'Customer Service Representatives' was chaotic. Trains were running but no-one knew the exact departure time of any. It defies belief that NR do not simply reset their timetable. It is utterly meaningless to run the 16xx to Shepperton 'one hour and four minutes late'. I was able to determine from a calm but ineffectual manager who had ventured onto the concourse that there had been a major power failure much earlier at Walton-on-Thames. There was no evidence of diversity or contingency and plenty of evidence of a significant engineering failure. If airlines ran like NR they would not last five minutes. We made various connections across a typically overheated Underground to reach Richmond where we could be more confident of identifying a Kingston bound train and completing our journey. This had all taken a lot of time (I felt glad that we had not had to return to Havant by train) and we now needed supper. Pizza Hut is an established comfort zone for me and service was quick. That turned out however to be at the expense of the pizza dough. I felt that they had changed their pepperoni and not for the better but was impressed by the free unlimited salad with a main course. On balance it is a sad reflection on Pizza Hut when the strongest menu item is the tortilla chips from the salad bar. The toilet there was borderline insalubrious with an astonishgly claustrophobic cabin and a flush with the strength of a vegetarian Liberal Democrat handshake. The taps in the hand basins appeared to have been placed rather than plumbed in and rotated freely. I imagine Prince Phillip might have been able to suggest the origins of the plumber.

All this transport related trauma rather detracts from the underlying success of the day. The 'Circle of Animals' exhibit in the Fountain Court of Somerset House was well worth the trip. In truth it is the setting which is brilliantly conceived, for the zodiacal sculptures, whatever significance the oppressed Mr Ai might attribute to them, are precariously mundane with some considerably less striking than others. It is being seen together and with the fountains that makes the whole thing work although, paradoxically, the individual heads most lend themselves to striking photographs. The freedom afforded the photographer by the exhibition host contrasts poignantly with the current (presumed) living arrangements of the artist.

Between the recumbent telephone boxes of surprising Kingston and the animal guests of elegant Somerset House lay one more surprise. 'Urban Fox' at the South Bank is a smile provoking feature of a Waterloo Bridge crossing. As artful as the eponymous creature itself, it deserves a place more permanent than its construction and intent (celebrating the 1951 Festival of Britain) make likely.

As Twickenham's A316 became the dull ribbon of the M3, I silently composed the blog to come as Greg drove. Only two weeks from the longest day and where there should have been a vibrant, light evening, thick cloud seemed to reinforce the failings of the day. The task then was to place those in the context of the greater successes. With a rebuke for Network Rail only half-formed I slept grateful for art and the ability to enjoy it.

Blue Cobra

An evening of unusual but necessary indulgence was the reward for a hard cycle nearly completed and a precursor to what I expect to be an enjoyable weekend close to home. We went to Blue Cobra, a recently opened Indian restaurant in Pier Street, Lee on Solent. The service was good, the food very good. The menu gave us the opportunity to try some new dishes and we were not disappointed. Poppadums were very fresh and the chutneys different enough to be notable. My Keema Kumbi starter was a well thought out breaded minced lamb and mushroom offering. Goan Chicken might have been more predictable but had a perfect texture and well managed spicing. A free Irish Cream (not necessarily Baileys , I suppose) was, as far as I know my first....and delicious.

We collect our new car tomorrow which is rather exciting. The weekend offers a Southdown Remembered bus event in Portsmouth and the arrival of Nimitz class USS George H W Bush at Spithead. It is too large to enter Portsmouth Harbour. In the meantime I hope to have caught up with MSC Opera now in Southampton after last weeks unplanned stop in Stockholm. It has been pleasant adapting to my maritime surroundings and the whole area presents regular new photographic opportunities.

Having had quite a shock on Facebook today I must now try to get through the night without dreaming of my colleagues bottoms - why can't the people you WANT to undress have similar moments of frivolity?

Inn Luck

Our experience at Crown Carveries' Inn By The Sea (Lee on Solent) on Saturday, was many steps removed from our last experience at the broadly comparable Toby Carvery. You know me as an opponent of rip-off and ardent proponent of value and fairness but, I must say, I don't know how they manage the prices they offer at Inn By The Sea. We paid £3.69 a head and £1.50 per person for Ultimate Upgrade which, frankly, proved to be unnecessary. We had a huge pile of good quality, fresh food served quite quickly. It was very good and, if you can find a space in the car park, you  should go.

Bouquets and Brickbats

I hope that the criticisms I level freely in a number of areas are morally balanced by compliments delivered where they are deserved. The two days since the thundery instability of Saturday have brought plenty of opportunities for both. After an uncertain start, the cloud over Dorset peeled away to offer beautiful weather  for the third day of the Swanage Railway Diesel Gala. Breakfast at the Marriott was excellent combining good quality ingredients with fresh preparation. The Sandford Road between Poole and Wareham may be the most rhododendron lined in the country. They are not fully out yet (as in Sarisbury Green) but it was very pleasant. There is so much to see in Bournemouth, Poole and environs, I am sure we shall be back soon. We went first to Norden where 'Western Campaigner' set the scene for an excellent day divided between the respective ends of the line. The organisation of the Diesel Gala was excellent, its choreography excellent. The amount of effort which had gone into arranging resident and guest locomotives and their multitude of movements and pairings was admirable. I felt that the Purbeck Mineral and Mining Museum also at Norden was, although still under development, a fascinating bonus.

Later in the day we were back in Bournemouth to collect a new Nikon lens for Greg. While he was in the shop, I finally found the motivation to capture some of the varied buses in busy Gervis Place. Then we went to eat in the Square at the poor Obscura restaurant. As I chewed the Obscura fare I reflected that the only possible advantage of this establishment is its prime people watching location. The food was poor quality, overpriced and dully prepared and served. To my astonishment they required payment up front, blaming escapees from their many outside tables. As one does not normally order a dessert at the outset of a meal, that would mean a separate payment or no dessert. I chose the latter to get away from eastern European wait staff, some of whom had not mastered even the phonetics of the menu and were unlikely to attempt conversational English. I thoroughly recommend not going there. On the way home, I remembered that oil prices went down this last week; I did not see any price reaction at forecourts. There never seems to be such tardiness with increases.

Today was a day for taking Mum out primarily to Gunwharf. We received outstanding attention and service in the shops we visited and Mum got both the shoes and handbag she wanted. That visit was rounded off nicely by another visit to Giraffe where service and food remained very good. I was pleased to be able to comment to that effect to the regional manager who was visiting. No such plaudits are deserved by Carillion, the avaricious and inept providers of parking services at QA hospital. I have had to criticise them before and today's news in the local paper prompted a letter to the editor (by e-mail) and to the Portsmouth North MP, Penny Mordaunt. Charges are due to go up again and, whilst this is entirely within the provisions of the unfortunate PFI contract, several criticisms can be levelled against a firm which is more interested in money than patients (and their attendants). Warning notices of the kind which now proliferate around the UK are inappropriate in the stress rich environment of a hospital. Patients and visitors have plenty to preoccupy them without enforcement threats made with a vigour not matched by the attention paid to broken or faulty ticket machines. Working or not, the ticket machines neither give change nor accept cards. The tariffs present and proposed are in odd amounts; this is a deliberate and calculated ploy to ensure that the many hassled parkers who do not have the right money will overpay, thus bolstering Carillion's profits further. I am not against hospital car park charging as such. In many locations it has become necessary to deter immoral commuter behaviour. It is regrettable that PFI deprives the QA of a potentially useful income stream where non-PFI hospitals benefit. Carillion however must be made to introduce change giving and card accepting machines and to improve their reliability. They should also be persuaded to introduce a simplified tariff of whole number sums to reduce the need for overpayments and hopefully be shamed into retracting the June increases. This is an era of scam. it should be challenged wherever it arises.

Two Days in April

As we left the centre of London, a little drizzle fell and, closer to Heathrow, some drizzle became rain but lacked energy. Throughout the day which followed, we would see none. The countryside is lush in spite of the lack of recent rain and we saw plenty of it in our two days of what I shall, slightly inaccurately, call perambulations. We went to Southampton twice; yesterday to see the impressive MSC Orchestra and, today, to see, rather more distantly, Vision of the Seas. This early in the season there were in fact five cruise ships due in part to the unexplained delay to Black Watch. Also present were Ventura, Saga Pearl II and Celebrity Eclipse as well as Vision of the Seas. It makes me happy to record the Southampton of today. Photography for today is photography for tomorrow also. Today, we went to Reading. I do not recall the last time I was there and I think I have only ever been by train before today. It might have been better by train; one of the unfortunate facts of our age is that revenue protection means that most stations are barriered and platform tickets appear to be a thing of the past. The one disappointment of the visit was that I could not access the station platforms. I enjoyed the buses though and the rest of Reading was attractive. The shops and restaurants were very good. When you have been alive for nearly 55 years and  have eaten a lot of meals, novelty or variety is always welcome. We found that today in Jaswa the baked samosa company. I expect this idea to spread into a chain. The food was very good and reasonably priced.

In London yesterday evening we went to see 'Hurly Burly' at The Garrick Theatre. I hadn't known what to expect as we went specifically to see singer Spencer Day. Perhaps I should have had a better idea of burlesque and, predictably, an hour and a half of women undressing was of limited interest to me although it is difficult to criticise a show which included a mash-up of 'Looks, Looks, Looks' by the inimitable Sparks. Spencer was a bit less prominent on stage than I would have liked and than he deserved. He has a good voice and we were very fortunate to meet him afterwards. He is highly engaging and energetic and I liked him very much. There was energy to spare in London on the night before the wedding and I must admit it was a slight buzz to be there. I enjoyed seeing the scene being set although I had no desire to see the event. Traffic was pretty awful even when we left well after 10pm. Traffic management schemes must have been introduced by those with some sort of vendetta against motorists and the increasingly encroaching cycle schemes are a madness disproportionately favouring those stupid enough to cycle in the capital. The blue paint of the cycle routes is an abomination and the signs proclaiming the forthcoming completion of CS8, a provocation. The only mollification I experienced - and I might have imagined this - was that I think some bus lanes formerly 24hrs are now 7am-7pm.

We shall return to London, Reading and, of course, Southampton.

Cheating

I do not know if an octopus, possessed of eight arms, could work faster but I, with the standard two, am going to have to cheat and bandbox my latest blog entries. I can not back-up and process my photographs with attendant notes and write everything I would like to write when it is fresh in my mind. Nothing seemed very fresh yesterday when a tired mind and tired body were still recovering from night shifts. For that reason, we got going well after the middle of the day and drove to Gosport for the ferry. Although the offer was there, I had to resist the temptation to go to Jessops, Hedge End and risk going further than Saturday's speculative visit to Currys to look at cameras. Tempted by the Panasonic FZ-100 and, unexpectedly, by the Fujifilm HS10, I found that I had too much information to digest and new criteria to consider. I could suddenly see some advantages to using AA batteries. Furthermore, we are about to be bombarded by yet more new products from several manufacturers. The only thing I can say with certainty is that I have no use for a 3D camera.
So, back in Gosport or, by now, in Portsmouth after the ferry ride, food was a priority - as I rarely have my lunch at 2pm - and a vague idea of a boat trip was forming. It was our third visit to Giraffe, Gunwharf Quays and I commend both food and service. It did add to the occasion sitting outside on a wonderful, blessed afternoon. On a previous visit to Gunwharf we had been disappointed that boat trips finished early. yesterday, in the Dockyard, we discovered one leaving at 4pm which allowed just enough time for a quick dabble in the fascinating surroundings before boarding. The tour then provided exactly what I wanted with close approaches to both Naval Base and Continental Ferry Port. There were a lot of naval vessels moored but it is a sad reflection on the state of our armed services that the majority were decommissioned or otherwise idle. It is astonishing that all three (current) Type 45 Daring Class ships were in - they are Daring, Dauntless and Diamond. It is rumoured that we can not afford to run them. What must be the morale of their crews and commanders? I would not much mind if the government of the day decided that we would reduce our armed services to the levels necessary only for the immediate defence of the United Kingdom. Instead, successive haphazard and incoherent defence reviews commit those services to more and more often far-flung activity with ever fewer resources. There is no obvious long-term plan beyond ostensible cost-savings.

When we have commitments in London we frequently stay one night before or after and are fortunate to be able to do so. Today then our destination was our favoured Heathrow Renaissance - close enough to London for most purposes - and we did not intend to waste the journey. Our first stop after a late breakfast was the RHS Garden at Wisley where the tulips were fantastic.

The car parks, although close to over-subscribed, receive little attention at Wisley so random parking leads to poor use of the space available. We went on for only my second visit (I think) to Brooklands. Much has changed in the area in the 6-7 years since my last visit and Mercedes-Benz World was evidently providing pleasure to many. The Brooklands Museum itself is a bit of mixed bag and I can only be honest in my review. Money has been spent on facilities and the contents of the shop but the aircraft displays (more than the vehicles) are close to being preserved but largely unrestored junk. There is, to be fair, a similar experience at many museums across the transport spectrum. We bought a Couple membership to show support but the fact that the Concorde (DG) attraction is £4 (£3 for members) more is inexplicable. I must say though I got a lot of enjoyment out of the exhibits. At both Wisley and Brooklands I had to contend with the insouciant and the medicated and, this being the Easter holiday, their lovely children/grandchildren. I turned it into a bit of a challenge; it is quite a skill to exclude completely from ones photographs the people at a busy venue. I have done it with patience (possibly a misrepresentation of one of my smaller virtues) and not Photoshop. As the results arrive on Facebook and Flickr, I hope you enjoy them.

Must Fly, But First.....

A well filled vacation, filled further by processing photographs and writing a diary now 36 years old, risks leaving insufficient time for everything I like to do. Until this moment, it was my blog, source variously of amusement and irritation to a largely hidden audience. I genuinely hope it contains some interesting narrative and observations. Many of my friends and colleagues are well travelled but we all see things differently. For 33 years I have been with Greg and it was our anniversary Wednesday. He moved me to tears by buying me a beautiful card with an unexpected message. Even after all this time it is difficult to understand why someone would love me when I do not particularly love myself. We all celebrate in different ways. We went to the Padres game at PETCO Park and, although we were nominally supporting the home team from the slightly uncomfortable position of the largely visitor-filled seats, we were most thrilled by seeing two Giants players, Buster Posey the catcher and remarkable pitcher Tim Lincecum. I have to congratulate not myself but my incredibly capable compact camera (TZ-6) on producing photographs I am very happy with.  Yesterday's 3-1 win over the Giants must have seemed a long way away when the visitors jumped out to a 3-0 lead in the first inning and later went on to win 8-4. When we arrived for the game, some spotty rain fell as it had fallen in the morning as we did a few relatively local things before a  break in the hotel room. The most important of these was to visit the Cancer Survivors Park with, of course, the Salmones sculpture but a different setting and different Bartels benches and tiles.

When you hear 'he has a low spice tolerance' in an Indian restaurant you do wonder if you should suggest that 'he' steps across the road to Hooters where he might find something more to his liking. We were in Royal India on Tuesday, where the food was good but overpriced and from a menu much shorter than would be normal in England. There were only four starters. It was the end of a busy day, the first half of which had been spent at SeaWorld. I was  tempted to turn around when we discovered it was Spring Break and there were all sorts of hideous children there but we had already paid the extraordinary $12 parking charge. Crowds disperse fairly effectively in the large site especially when a show is on so the rest of the time was not bad. I remembered the delightful Penguin Encounter from our previous visit and it was a key reason for going back but, on this occasion, it was the beluga whales in Wild Arctic which moved me most. Their passivity and elegance in the water was magical. It seemed to me that the dolphins' training is designed to work mostly for those who have paid for encounters or gone into a show as it was difficult to photograph them casually. Animal Encounters however was a pleasant last surprise as we met a legless lizard and a sloth. Overall it was a great experience but, predictably, transport subjects were not far from my mind. Greg rested in the hotel while I went for an afternoon meander. I worked out the ticket machine for the trolley and bought a day pass, good value for even my relatively local perambulations. It took some while to understand that Event Specials were running in addition to regular Orange Line services. I thoroughly enjoyed myself at Santa Fe Depot (Amtrak San Diego) and idly wondered what Santa Fe's station is called. There was no sign of any concern at my photographic endeavours but that changed later at Transit Center. The off-duty home of the trolleys (trams) is in an area made much busier Tuesday by the crowds arriving for the Padres' home opener against the Giants. Photography is actually difficult although there is plenty to see and I was using my camera openly but without trespassing beyond public areas. I was stopped by TSA officers for a bit of chat and, uncharacteristically but instinctively, I decided to remain relaxed and pleasant. They were very civil but very thorough and the psychology of the encounter was interesting. There were two key officers, one man, one woman, not exactly a 'good cop, bad cop' scenario but very defusing. However, there were three others nearby but within striking distance as it were - I think they could have coped with any eventuality. To give them their due they are clearly, and to my relief, well briefed on the latest determination that there are no general federal statutes prohibiting photography in public places. In spite of the existence of several excellent and prominent magazines in the US, interest in transport(ation) is not widely understood there. Still, my Flickr photostream today was well balanced with sculpture, architecture, animals, birds and trees. Leaving the area calmly, I walked back to the Marriott, savouring the Convention Center architecture and afternoon sun.

I don't think I have put on any weight but I have gained a few gigabytes and might take a while to catch up. As at the end of most holidays, I am happy and grateful but also ready to go back and be in the UK for a while; a short while as it happens as we shall soon be in Norway.

Problem; Solution

The internet was back - have you tried turning it off and back on again? The cloud of yesterday was gone and the temperature rose but remained pleasant. A Chinese Restaurant had eluded me yesterday. Well, not actually eluded; it is just that there were too many cars parked in front. A Sunday morning would be a good time to return. It nearly eluded me again on a trip for which I left Greg resting at the resort. I could not remember exactly where it was and drove as far as Bob Hope before turning back. I knew it was not just outside Phoenix and with the price of gas....Anyway, it was right there in Cathedral City all the time and I allowed one car into the photograph. I boxed rather clumsily back to the airport and noted that a new control tower is under construction. I wanted to be on the north side and worked my way round with several stops for the different sections of apron (ramp). It was easier than last time with the sun a little better placed but it was not straightforward. A  crowded ramp does not lend itself to aircraft portraiture and the comings and goings of the rich but not necessarily famous were myriad. I even saw two poodles headed for one plane but I imagine it was their owner who had hired it unless they were Lotto winners in their own right. The Loft, 'open for breakfast and lunch' was, well, closed. So, almost by chance, I ended up at the Palm Springs Air Museum for perhaps my third visit. And, as it turned out, the most enjoyable.

Problem; what is one to do when one has paid for a helicopter ride but no-one else turns up to make the flight (minimum 4) viable? Solution; hire a family. I had cooled my heels taking photographs which I enjoyed very much because they had a delightful display of carrier airplanes outside and some magnificent classic cars inside interspersed with the aircraft exhibits. I used the bathroom twice and had lunch, a Middle East sandwich, not named as you might imagine after Israel, but a delightful combo of grilled chicken, houmous and peppers on pitta. I learned something today - the meaning of 'flak', now in common usage but once an abbreviation for 'Fliegerabwehrkanone', an anti-aircraft gun. Still no companions for the ride so it was time to innovate. I did not want to miss my flight as I love helicopters and I did not much want a refund. I picked on a family group, father and two sons and offered them the trip. They only needed to realise that I was English to cope with this offer out of left field and off we went for our ten minute circuit of Palm Springs with a slight tinge of Cathedral City. Why is it that, although I have a perfectly common fear of (open) heights, I have absolutely no concerns about flying even when, as in a Jet Ranger, you can see straight past your feet? I was relieved to get reasonable results from my aerial shots. I had been very disappointed with those I took from our flight to Rome but that was from about 35,000' and, I imagine, somewhat beyond the abilities of my camera. Every mistake made with the camera is a lesson learned and I think I am getting better.

An afternoon nap barely refreshed me but I was ready for our evening meal at The Falls, an excellent restaurant in Palm Canyon Drive. My filet was superb and Greg savoured his rib-eye after we had had starters of Cajun Shrimp and Almond Brie respectively. It is an expensive restaurant but I think I could call it value for money. The restaurants of Palm Springs were thriving this Sunday night. We'll be seeing them again in 2012 but for now we are hours away from three days in San Diego.

A Saturday In The Desert Cities

From Palm Springs to La Quinta and Bermuda Dunes and back; maybe a slight hint of Indio, difficult to say. It was a road trip of sorts, very urban but definitely a road trip with cameras slung and objectives in mind. Objectives which would be fulfilled with some surprises along the way and some failures at the end. Is it an admission of failure to use 'straightening' in Photoshop? The fact is, conditions are sometimes less than ideal for photography. Without an articulated LCD screen (a feature of my next camera) maintaining an horizon in an awkwardly held camera can be rather speculative. I benefit from being tall and I can get my camera where others can not (say nothing Kettlewell and you Bethel, stop snickering) but it does not always work out and I don't publish what I don't like. My standards go beyond OCD with very rare compromises. Greg straightened a shot for me from the wonderful Bermuda Dunes airport but I was absolutely mortified that I had cropped the offside mirror of a glorious fire truck at Rancho Mirage Fire Station No.1 where I had had a friendly reception and a good chat. That faux pas came about when the light was too bright for the LCD.  I am an uncompromising fan of digital as the sheer volume of images possible these days would have been prohibitively expensive with film. I also use the camera as a notebook, recording reference shots to help later with my notes. Purists will even now be sneering into their skinny lattes or, more likely, Darjeeling. They will argue that more thought should go into the composition in the first place and that shots should not be wasted. I travel a middle road, understanding the principle they espouse but preferring to apply 10-20% of my creativity at home in shot selection and minor pp but, usually, without Photoshop. Amongst the oddities of today and the delightful surprise of a '65 Ford Mustang were two really important stops. The Cancer Survivors Park in Rancho Mirage delivers an important message to anyone affected directly or indirectly by cancer and to the population at large. It is a joyous place and I hope to see some of the other parks in 21 cities around the US and in Canada. My Flickr and Facebook albums tell the tale. The Eisenhower Walk of Honor in Indian Wells is also beautifully executed and, co-located with the Indian Wells Memorial, thought provoking as such memorials should be.

It takes a while to move about the Valley and through its thousand stop lights but that can be an advantage when on the lookout. We ate lunch not at Baja Fresh as planned but at Rockin' Baja in La Quinta. The food was excellent, scoring highly for freshness of preparation. Our meal was actually obscenely large and our evening food consumption consequently minimal. I liked though that it was flautas evening at the Inndulge social hour. I liked an internet failure (local router) much less but it was time for bed anyway. Monday will be the perfect time to move on to San Diego but we have already decided that we shall come back to Palm Springs indefinitely. Jon and Sandy are not John and Jean-Guy but no bad things have happened at Inndulge. There are good new things and many of the good old things. Any change is being applied with a lightness of touch which recognises the goodwill that came with the property. Ours is intact and LAX immigration will see us again.

Hindhead, Heathrow and Hunger

Haze fought with sunshine and, for the most part, sunshine won to produce a pleasant day. It took us a while to get going and a while longer to leave the Havant area but now the holiday had begun. Little Chef, Liphook is one of the last outposts of a ragged and volatile chain which has always offered reliable food but with variable service. Today it was interesting to compare it with some of our probable US destinations in the next two weeks. America almost always offers good if rather stereotyped and rehearsed service. In the UK we too have reached a state where service is mostly pleasant and, on occasion, sincerely so. Where we do not compete is on price and portion size but this, perhaps surprisingly, is only half of a bad thing. Prices are scary and that is inevitable with the government gobbling 20% VAT from every plate for no effort. This, in conjunction with sometimes modest portions, can create an impression of poor value but there is an upside. A typical eating place in, say, Palm Springs, will offer portions of a size so ridiculously large (a bit like many Americans, in fact) that waste is inevitable. A meal is enjoyed less because to order two courses is a risk and to order three, futile gluttony. While there are people on this planet who starve or are undernourished, food waste is a sin and all those associated with it should be ashamed.

There is nothing like seeing something for yourself, so I seized the opportunity today to clarify in my own mind mystifying media reports from earlier in the week when the Miss James bridge segment of the A3/Hindhead Tunnel project opened. Based on what I had seen previously, I doubted the descriptions of dirt and plantings across the bridge. Today, I came, I saw and I concurred. My inevitable photographs are on Flickr.

Neither of us wanted to dabble in London before heading for the familiar Heathrow Renaissance. I left Greg in our rather ordinary room and went into the central area to photograph without any real theme. I was pleased with the results. Heathrow can now compete with JFK and to a lesser extent LAX for its tiresomely endless redevelopment which turns almost all of it into an incoherent and cluttered mess. Precisely the problem of such loudly trumpeted investment - which may well be ready for the Rio Olympics but certainly not those in London - is that the aesthetics of the new can never be enjoyed in the chaos of the journey to the next. Heathrow must be one of the largest sponsors of the UK construction industry and pours more concrete than all the mafia families of the US combined. There was, in fact, one exception to my exasperated observations. The outside of Terminal 3 departures is now splendidly attractive partly because the milling traffic does not come right up to the old curb line now mercifully lost in a much extended frontage.

The implacable march of progress will (I believe) lead in turn to the demolition of the iconic control tower building, best known for being my workplace from 1983 to 1991. I photographed that today and perhaps shall not have another opportunity. My photography may not be brilliant but it is determined and I walked  a long way today to photograph the Emirates  A380 model at the Heathrow entrance having previously done so only from above.

In the evening we shunned the hotel restaurant on grounds of expense but, ironically, ended up at the Sipson Tandoori, not our original intent and not cheap, although the food is good. When we went out we encountered nightmare traffic and, in a notably Asian area, I felt that some sub-continent driving styles had impinged upon our roads. I fancied pizza but the Hayes Pizza Hut was hopelessly busy and a long drive brought us back to the once favoured haunt of LATCC diners. Our car is at 0655 and we have familiar seats on our LAX flight. My next post will be from BST -8.

A Precious Day With Greg

With March slipping by and my days off assassinated by extra commitments, a genuine day off with sunshine and my boyfriend was to be savoured. Frost could be shrugged off as the sunshine took dominance. I went to see Mum and offered reassurance about our availability before our eagerly awaited flight to Los Angeles. It might be a bit poignant with a return to the east coast planned for future trips. I should explain to Matt and Ross that that means Fort Lauderdale and not Skegness. Dental appointments went well and we left with teeth gleaming as much as is possible in the over 50s without whitening. An NHS dentist is as valuable as a sunny day in one of the gloomiest recorded winters. I wanted some more photographs printed and went to Jessops, Fareham where vouchers from previous purchases paid the bill. Lunch at Cafe Tusk was reliably good and 'Bus and Coach Week' aided digestion.

Leaving the cramped but familiar multi-storey in Fareham I did not feel inclined to waste the continuing good weather but had no particular itinerary in mind. In the event we went to Botley and Bishops Waltham and I got good but unplanned photographs. The English Heritage managed Bishops Waltham Abbey is one of countless enthralling properties I love to visit. I tried a little contre-jour (Google).

My initial reaction to REMs 'Collapse Into Now' was one of disappointment after the ecstatic video preview I reported a while ago. A first listen is not usually enough to crystallise ones opinions but I was left thinking 'how is any one of these songs different'?

When I tried to create some links in Flickr between photographs I met with mixed results and was left puzzled. Setting aside my usual internet paranoia I put it down to a temporary hiccup in the application as attempts to date have been successful.  The evening ended more pleasantly with an excellent soup. You have no doubt noticed the ever expanding market in brand and supermarket brand offerings in this field. Already established in this field, New Covent Garden tetrapaks are widely known. Now they offer tubs with "The Dining Room" branding. Tonight's Slow Cooked Pork with Cannellini Beans was faultless and beautifully flavoured. If you like what I call 'meal' soups, this line is well worth looking out for.

Satisfaction

ASDA has done it again, providing us tonight with a very satisfactory chilli con carne; inexpensive, absolutely nothing wrong with it. It was part of a day constructed as a patchwork of satisfaction stitched together with optimism and anticipation of some good future events. I can't say that I was thrilled at first to be at work for the second of eight consecutive days but at least it was cold and misty which meant I was not missing sunshine as I did yesterday. I can say that I very much enjoyed my investigators course. The course content and structure were well judged and it was delivered well. I felt informed, educated and engaged.

Even before I had reached work, I had enjoyed most of 'Computers and Blues' by The Streets. This is touted as Mike Skinner's final offering and I have at least two of the earlier CDs. He really is very good. I wonder now if I would enjoy 'The Defamation of Strickland Banks' - I just about caught Plan B on The Brits but not enough to be sure. With this in my car CD player, I still have 'Collapse Into Now' by REM to look forward to. My cultural cravings were topped up in the evening by our recording of a documentary about sculptor David Nash, an artist of rare articulacy. He seems to interview with clarity avoiding the pretentious, mumbling crap associated with many contemporary artists. This documentary and Great British Railway Journeys before it have both visited Blaenau Ffestiniog and such is the attraction of its stark landscape, I think I might have to visit too.

Closer to home, we had our oven cleaned and I had an unexpected surprise from work. If you see an Ovenclean  franchise in your area I suggest you contact them. I don't know anyone who actually likes cleaning their oven, so this is an ideal service. Unless you use your oven three times a day and are completely neglectful, you need use the service only once a year and it costs about £45-55. We were extremely satisfied with the service and the result. On my night shifts I had written a paper with some ideas about some of the applications we use at work. It seems it has been favourably received.

I think the six days ahead, culminating in more nights, will be hard at times but, at their end. lies a rare weekend off. I have plenty of ideas for those.

Rome Weekend - Day 4

If all roads lead to Rome then, when in Rome itself, all roads lead to Termini. Termini is a hectic confluence of rail, metro, tram, bus and,well, roads. It is a flaw rather than a highlight in the dull jewel of the Metro that the current lines (A & B; C is allegedly under construction) cross only at Termini. The system was extremely busy even on a Sunday and work in progress meant a trek across the entire station to change lines (in our direction of travel). The Rome Metro is a shabby looking place but posters do advertise much needed rejuvenation. As with similar projects in Britain, there seems to be a lot closed off and not very much going on. We had already had a very long walk at Spagna where it is probably considered an advantage in bad weather to be able to cover long distances underground but those passages could do with some revitalisation.

It was not bad weather today; it was absolutely beautiful and our coats came off a couple of hours earlier than yesterday. First sight outside Circo Massimo station was the beautifully sunlit Severione Baths on the Palatine. We wandered unexpectedly round the Stadio delle Terme di Caracalla to find yet more ruins there before going to the Caracalla Baths themselves. They are extraordinary and I was quite moved. The scale of the ruins is remarkable; the original structure must have been incredible. It was a great visit but we needed to rest before our afternoon visit to the opera.

We attended Teatro dell'Opera for L'Elisir d'Amore. There were a few of the hard of moving there. If I had been in the condition of some of them I don't think I would have attended anything as long as an opera. The production was visually captivating but the director had filled a large stage with irritating distractions in the background which became genuinely annoying. The singing was not of the highest calibre but the key tenor aria, 'Una Furtiva Lagrima' was beautifully performed. For me, there as Greg's companion not as an opera fan per se, the highlight was early in the first act when Belcore drew his sword to reveal a weapon of much less length than the scabbard. A visual metaphor missed in that brief moment by many I suspect.

After the performance I found myself again caught between a place and a Hard Rock. The eponymous cafe had a wait tonight of 50-60 mins. With plenty of empty tables visible this represents a mixture of ineptitude and the bullshit that goes with this supposed star attraction worldwide. At the end of the day it's a burger joint with nice buns. Much though I appreciate nice buns I don't wait up to an hour for a meal. We ate a very satisfactory meal at our hotel where the waiter was in a league completely removed from those of our first two nights.

I disciplined myself to upload to Flickr but I am behind and want to do the remainder properly. We have printed our boarding passes for tomorrow and are obviously very thrilled at the prospect of returning to wind and rain.

Rome Weekend - Day 2

The best way to leave a restaurant is reluctantly. I was all too keen to leave Ristorante Il Peperone at Via Veneto, 97 tonight. The food was fine; the service was poor. The roles seemed to be divided between  a mixture of unhappy Asians and their extremely detached Italian superiors. None was attentive, lacking even the basic skill of offering dessert after a suitable pause following the main course. So inattentive were they that, even in a quiet restaurant, they forgot to charge for our desserts and coffee. Only because I feared arrest if they somehow blamed us for this oversight I brought it to their attention and their remedy was not to amend the bill but to produce a second, leading to two credit card transactions. Still, there was no repeat of last night's attempted scam.

Rome and Paris have a lot in common. Both are beautiful cities. Both are inhabited by people who believe they have style which they do not and both have countless examples of stunningly selfish parking. Double parking is virtually mandatory and triple parking is not unheard of. I can only imagine that all the perpetrators belong to the 'I'm only going to be a few minutes' club. This caveat of course makes ones vehicle much less of an obstacle as does leaving on ones hazard flashers in the UK. A streak of selfishness bordering frequently on lawlessness runs through the Italian psyche. On Roma Termini station where smoking is banned, it is hard to avoid smokers the most daring of whom are finishing their cigarettes not only on the platforms but actually in train doorways with only the ash beyond the plane of the carriage's boundary.

It was a beautiful day in Rome but still required a coat. As in many cities, the canyons formed by closely spaced buildings can be cold as well as dark. These same conditions made photography more challenging. The greater challenge though lies in achieving some originality in one of the most photographed cities on earth. I think I have done that in some of my Flickr photostream. It took a while to get motivated. I found the buses unexciting, a feeling with which most of you are probably already familiar. Motivation was difficult too at Roma Termini station. Although the concourse area is developed and clean, the station infrastructure of (presumably) 60s concrete shows visible decay. Wider decay is evident in the shameful external condition of many of the trains including locomotives. Toilet facilities at 70c per use were woefully inadequate, a downstairs closure apparently leaving limited capacity and consequent queues for facilities on which the Euros collected had not obviously been spent.

We had Metro tickets but the easiest way to get around and see as much as possible is on foot. We walked a long way. The Colosseum and Forum were of course busy but some of the side streets were surprisingly tranquil and pleasant. In one such we found a good buffet lunch which revived us enough to continue the uphill walk to the hotel. Breakfast at the hotel is taken on the 7th floor which has a roof garden. That was open during breakfast but closed in the afternoon which I found surprising and mean. I doubt that the motivation was Health and Safety - this is Italy.

Rome, I suppose, is no more representative of Italy at large than London is of England or Britain but it certainly is expensive. Although, like London, there is no season as such with a constant stream of tourists, I felt there were signs of strain on the economy.

Devon & Cornwall - Day 2

It is 10pm on a Friday and this blog is the last thing I can do online tonight. I hope it is read and enjoyed. I am tired and happy; as relaxed as I get being paranoid and with OCD. It was deeply cold overnight and then all day but during that day soft sunshine slipped through the fingers of the icy hand gripping Cornwall. We intended to go to St. Ives but made it only as far as Newquay and were still perfectly happy. We ate breakfast at Piers Cafe on the A39 at Otterham Station. It was very enjoyable and of good quality ingredients. I was pleased to get a photograph at Newquay Airport before we continued into the town. It was distinctly off-season but there was still plenty to see and do. I have published photographs on Flickr and Facebook. I can't say I enjoyed my Cornish pasty lunch but perhaps that was because there was too little room on top of my breakfast. The Blue Reef Aquarium was excellent. Some of my enthusiasms and wonderment have come late to a cynical mind and today, for the first time, I was gripped by some of the things which live in the sea (not literally for those of you who might have hoped for more from my encounter with an octopus). The variety is endless and unfathomable. From Newquay we decided to head back towards Tintagel. We missed the signs to the castle but, viewing it from the Camelot Hotel, found it very disappointing as I had in fact been warned by my brother in law. Roadworks are very popular in Cornwall or at least prolific and it was a somewhat circuitous route back to Rosecare avoiding Boscastle.

We returned to Tintagel in the evening and as a family group for the improbably located 'Indian Ocean' restaurant. The food was tasty but unexceptional. Service was good but some dishes arrived at the table a little colder than they might have been.

Devon & Cornwall - Day 1

Believe it or not, it was snowing a little in the morning and remained bitterly cold throughout the day. It was also predominantly dull but there was some very pleasant if short-lived sunshine in Okehampton in the afternoon. I went to see my Mum before we started our travels and we left Lee on Solent at the intended time. The machines at Rownhams were rather generous – a profit on this occasion of £134. Roadchef could do better with their services and the poorly maintained Rownhams has nothing to recommend it other than what are known in Las Vegas as ‘loose slots’. The state of the car park surface is shameful.


The drive along the south coast is not a fast route and certainly not at my elderly pace but we had no need to stop at Bridport and continued to Exeter. The dismal airport there with a terminal which is little more than a shelter with a coffee shop, is rarely good for photographs but today I braved a biting wind to get a shot of a Titan 737. A short hop to Exeter services allowed us to use M&S Food for lunch which, as I have previously posted, is about the best bet on the motorways these days.

My main objective of the day was Meldon Quarry near Okehampton where, strangely, there are stored some Southern Region emus, important examples of slam door stock which is very under-represented in preservation. They were clearly visible but difficult to photograph through overhanging trees. I really need to study more closely the focusing options in my camera manual. I was courteously accommodated in a safe position but, obviously, cannot wander around a working quarry and its plant. I have my hi-vis coat which has already paid for itself but could not summon up a hard-hat or steel-capped shoes. Nevertheless I was pleased with what I had seen.

Awkwardly located roadworks at Pipers Pool meant a circuitous route to my brother in law’s farm of which I saw rather little as Greg drove and I slept. I felt the cold could very much restrict our weekend activities but we shall see day by day.

Slipped Through My Fingers

The evening was golden and it was blue but the silky colours which caressed the dying day could not deny that that day had slipped through my fingers. A little regret was partially suppressed by a few photographs snatched before tantalising late sun fell into dusk. I was lucky to have a defuser colleague at hand when an unexpected incident at work upset me more than I would have imagined. I bounced back as one must and stayed on for an important meeting. All these things are important but now my desire to get back to recently ill Greg competed with the desire to do a couple of things and mixed with disappointment that many of my photographic aspirations would remain still on a to-do list. Many of my Flickr photographs are taken not strictly to satisfy my own hobbies other than Flickr itself. They are taken instead to contribute to various groups. One such is the improbable 'Chinese Restaurant Worldwide Documentation Project'. It excludes rather pragmatically such restaurants in China and Hong Kong but I am rather enjoying adding those I see more easily. My humble documentation of those in my own area seem to attract a respectable number of views.

With Greg recovering from his recent indisposition, we felt able to eat Indian food this evening. The latest 'Taste the Difference' boxed meal from Sainsburys was flawless. Quantities and flavours were excellent, the composition of the meal avoided the predictable and to consume it was uplifting.

To continue with upliftment I turned to the living room and our recordings of Great British Railway Journeys. No praise is too high for the series or its presenter, Michael Portillo. The programmes delicately balance railway interest with extraordinary history and contemporary narration. So soothing is the content that a problem has now arisen on more than one occasion. I fall asleep not with ennui but sheer contentment and we have to return to the recording at a more wakeful moment. If I can do anything in life as well as Portillo presents these programmes then I shall have achieved something. Perhaps I shall have to settle for loving Greg and my friends in my own peculiar way.

A Broken Day Mended

Because I had rearranged my days off for our social commitments I felt I had nearly shot myself in the foot. The best weather of the three days arrived after a heavy frost but I had no spirit to go to London as originally planned. I want to photograph Rivelino's 'Nuestros Silencios' but it can wait until a visit in early February. As I have written previously, good photographs can not be taken without motivation. So, the day started from scratch. We dropped a friend in Winchester where I hoped to visit the military museums. I was disappointed to find almost no external exhibits. The sunshine, although welcome, produced an overbright and hazy light which would hinder photography anyway. I am looking forward to the passing of a cycle which will see me on leave in Cornwall, Rome and London but did not want to waste this day. We drove down to Eastleigh where the railway was also disappointing. It is the time of month for 'Buses' magazine although it seems to take a couple of days to reach the shelves. Rather than go to Fareham, we parked in Eastleigh town for its shops. It is a pretty dull place with, as far as I can see, only one bright star in its firmament (one of the nicest people in the world) but we did wander in the Swan Centre and High Street. I didn't quite know what to make of the museum which I had hoped might be more railway oriented. In fairness I have to say that their ethos is in fact to highlight the other aspects of the town's history.

There are several interesting things which can be seen from the M27 but can not, of course, legally be photographed. One such is a mill whose location we managed to pinpoint for 'landside' access. I went there today and was delighted to wander round by the Itchen and be charmed by the (converted) buildings. Greg had gone in Hobbycraft and, re-united, we lunched well in Haskins. It was finally time to go home and rest and think a little of the megabytes in my holiday destinations.

Sexy Food, Mediaeval Wonder and Modern Art

The timing of my breaks and the fact that I had had a substantial breakfast with a furtive half slice of fried bread meant that I never did buy the alluring buttercream coated sponge which tantalised me from the red light section of the sandwich counter in our staff restaurant. The single cherry eye of this gateau-whore temptress was still in my mind as pre-lunch rumbles assailed a stomach ready for the more attainable earthly pleasures. That stomach had not quite forgotten the teasing combination of fried bread and baked beans which, in a restaurant which can not consistently provide a draining spoon, are remarkably good.

With flashes of watery winter sunshine enough to convince me that something could be salvaged from the weekend, I had eschewed rest for a drive to Salisbury. We went specifically to see modern art at the cathedral but for now my mind wanted pizza and my eyes drew me to Boston Tea Party http://www.bostonteaparty.co.uk/ . This small chain of West Country restaurants serves excellent food if my burger was anything to go by (although Greg was not quite so impressed with his slightly dry macaroni cheese). Where the earlier cake had, confusingly, been a tart, the burger which reached my table with its promised accompaniments was a fully legal, highly skilled masseur soothing me towards a culinary orgasm.

Amusingly, the following is one of (and in my opinion, the most apposite) of several quotations adorning the dining room wall: 'Great restaurants are, of course, nothing but mouth-brothels. There is no point in going  to them if one intends to keep one's belt buckled' [Frederic Raphael]

Truly the burger was about as similar to the products of nearby Burger King as I am to the inhabitants of some far distant exo-planet; one of the best I have had and with a bun which was actually made of bread which appears to be unheard of these days on the high street.

Thus fortified and with the return of drizzle never far away, we entered the precincts of Salisbury Cathedral. Even on this dull day the sight of this extraordinary edifice on the approach from the south had been deeply inspiring. Even with no sunshine to make its stone glow in the manner of such buildings the inspiration is only magnified by proximity and, inside, however lacking in religious conviction, one is moved in a visceral way by an undefinable atmosphere. As a photogapher, I was moved even more as a thousand subjects presented themselves and my humble mini-tripod supported countless available light opportunities. I could have stayed for ever. Built to the glory of God, everything in and around the cathedral celebrates every aspect of human existence whether divinely created or not.

I had travelled to see and photograph 'Water-Towers' by Bruce Munro. In the cloisters of Salisbury cathedral he has found a stunningly sympathetic setting. I shot in available light and my first picture on review caused me a sharp intake of breath and a welling of tears. The work is remarkably engaging and adds to the atmosphere as well as drawing on that which is already there. I suggest you see it before February 27th.

Both stomach and soul had been satisfied so it was hard to resent the rain which accompanied the walk back to the Old George Mall and its car park. With or without a God, life is very good.