"I am pleased to tell you, you have passed your test."
" Thank you."
"And by the way, if we didn't do the three point turn or reverse around a corner don't worry; if I can fall to sleep in city traffic at this time in the day, your driving has to be pretty good."
While there had been just enough time left to perform an emergency stop, and to reverse into a tight parking space on the very steep hill outside the testing station. I often wonder how long my driving test would have actually lasted; had the examiner not been woken up by the noisy windscreen wipers on that little blue mini.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Bookmark
Nadine,
Many thanks for your permission to photograph your book
for an entry in Photographer of the Year 2009
http://www.nadinelamanbooks.com/
http://poty2009.dcmag.co.uk/
Many thanks for your permission to photograph your book
for an entry in Photographer of the Year 2009
http://www.nadinelamanbooks.com/
http://poty2009.dcmag.co.uk/
Autumn's Fire
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Forgotten Doorway
What stories can these doors tell?
Wandering past I stopped for a photograph, suitably choosing the camera's B&W mode to try and capture a little of the atmosphere, as I tried to picture the folk who may have opened new timbers to greet a visitor's knock.
Blonde curls over flushed cheeks, or jet black waves over thick rim spectacles, bearded gent or grey haired lady, with flour still upon her fingers, now drawn away from her toil on the kitchen table. A sniff of the Oak fire and the grunt of an animal from the adjacent quarters maybe; after all our sitting room used to house the cattle and still smelt like a stale dairy when we first moved into our old farmhouse.
Remembering the huge pile of empty cider bottles we found up over in the hayloft, I'm now wondering what dusty tales opening these doors may reveal, yet somehow the Brambles barring my way suggest the mystery should remain, and peering into the dark slit for a moment longer I'm soon making my way home in some urgency.
It's raining hard, I'm desperate for a wee, and the sound of rushing water is not helping one bit!
Plus I'm not sure if my little Fuji is waterproof or not.
Still, I managed a nice shot of a Forgotten Doorway and did not get too wet.
Wandering past I stopped for a photograph, suitably choosing the camera's B&W mode to try and capture a little of the atmosphere, as I tried to picture the folk who may have opened new timbers to greet a visitor's knock.
Blonde curls over flushed cheeks, or jet black waves over thick rim spectacles, bearded gent or grey haired lady, with flour still upon her fingers, now drawn away from her toil on the kitchen table. A sniff of the Oak fire and the grunt of an animal from the adjacent quarters maybe; after all our sitting room used to house the cattle and still smelt like a stale dairy when we first moved into our old farmhouse.
Remembering the huge pile of empty cider bottles we found up over in the hayloft, I'm now wondering what dusty tales opening these doors may reveal, yet somehow the Brambles barring my way suggest the mystery should remain, and peering into the dark slit for a moment longer I'm soon making my way home in some urgency.
It's raining hard, I'm desperate for a wee, and the sound of rushing water is not helping one bit!
Plus I'm not sure if my little Fuji is waterproof or not.
Still, I managed a nice shot of a Forgotten Doorway and did not get too wet.
A colourful welcome to start the day
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