Where is Phil now?

Back to St Leonards

Saturday 01 September 2018 – St Leonards-on-Sea and Hastings.

I am a bit drunk as I let myself in through the front door of the airbnb I am staying in tonight. The house is Tudor, according to my host, it is the second oldest building in Hastings. I struggle with the lock, it turns 180 degrees to home. My (wine, gin, whisky) addled brain eventually works it out and I am in. Creaking quietly up to my first floor room, every board of this ancient staircase creaks. My door squeaks open and bangs closed, the latch doesn’t work. I then realise no one else is home, and the floors and doors can make whatever noise they want.

Barefoot I feel every dip and rise in the wooden floor, it’s not just the old walls that are uneven. In the morning I discover the floor has quite a slope, perhaps I was less drunk than I thought.

The room is lovely, white and wooden, noisy from the street. Headphones on I try Eno’s ambient Descreet Music as a means to sleep, whisky helping. Though morning may have regrets. Much like today almost did.

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This is my third visit to Hastings and St Leonards in recent weeks. I have offered on a flat in St Leonards. Two bedrooms, the top floor of a building built by the admiralty in 1884 to house retired senior naval officers, it is red brick and I really, really like it. The flat is in the roof, pretty much under the word ‘flat’ at the start of the sentence, in the picture below!

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However…….

I fell in love with the first flat I saw online when I started looking for flats in this area a few weeks ago. It is not this flat in St Leonards, but one in Hastings old town. It disappeared off the market almost immediately, before I could get down to see it. Last week it was online again.

The vendor of the St Leonards flat had yet to get back to me on my offer, it had been rather cheeky. In case if fell through I decided to come down and have a look at this Old Town flat as a plan B. El and I came down last weekend, and it is really, really nice. Just off the high street, out of the way up a steep path and view over the roofs of the old town and out to sea is magnificent. I decided I would offer on it as well and see how things worked out.

As this place is so close to the centre of old town nightlife I thought it wise to come down for a Friday night, find an AirBnB nearby and see, and hear, what it is like of evening. IS it really noisy? Is there closing time trouble? Junkies and drunks sleeping in doorways etc.

After booking an old town AirBnB the St Leonards vendor accepted my offer, I gave the Hastings old Town vendor a chance to do the same, but they didn’t so St Leonards here I come. My first property purchase in the UK. Assuming all goes through of course.

Even though staying in the old town is not relevant I went ahead anyway. St Leonards does not have a lot of night life so the old town, a 30 minute walk away is where we would likely go anyway.

I caught the train from London after work, sneaking off slightly early and getting a train from Victoria Station just before 4:00. The Victoria to Hastings line is the slowest of the three from central London, taking just under two hours. It is a direct train, but it stops in a lot of places. I like trains so was not unhappy with the trip and I should get used to it.

However….

Walking alone out of Hastings station into the early evening sunlight I was overcome with a wave of despondency. Why was I buying here? Not wanting to come across sounding like a complete middle class snob, but it was all so chav. Street drinkers, bad tattoos, run down cars, smokers in doorways. I know everywhere is like this, but I want it to feel like I am perpetually on holiday when I come here. I had a moment of regretting buying here, even though the weather is nice, it just feels a bit grim in this part of Hastings. My steps were heavy as I made my way down from the station to the sea front.

As soon as I hit the sea, my mood lightened. Walking along the promenade towards the old town and watching the skates and bmxers, the dog walkers and the families strolling I knew that I had made the right call. The brief flash of regret was regretted and disposed of.

I dumped my bag in my room in the creaky old AirBnB, after a quick chat with the owners I made my way out the door again. They have lived here for five years and are now looking to move to St Leonards themselves, somewhere quieter.

Tonight is the opening of Coastal Currents, a month long annual art event in Hastings and St Lenoards. The opening party is free and is being held in the big waterfront bar where I spent my first evening last time I came down. It is early evening am hungry, I checked out the pier, but didn’t fancy eating here. I did stop for a glass of wine and to take a few photos up the beach.

I was warned by the BnB hosts that I might find it hard getting a table in any of the eating places. It is the last weekend of the holidays, the weather it lovely and the art festival opening is on. They were right. By the time I had walked to St Leonards, taken a walk by my flat to see what the street was like on a Friday night (dead) there were no table at any of the cafes. I made my way back to the sea front and stopped in to the Goat Ledge cafe for another glass of wine and an excellent fish burger and fries. It was pretty packed, but it was nice sitting on the beach listening to the dark sea behind me.

As I was leaving a load of people on brightly lit bikes riding from Hastings pier to the opening party stopped in at the cafe. I took a few photos.

I was lured in to the opening party by the wonderful sounds of Velvet Underground on the sound system, though discovered this was just a trap, once I had bought a gin and tonic the music had turned to some terrible house music. Not knowing anyone here I didn’t hang around for long before walking back to Hastings. There are some lovely Georgian, Edwardian and Victorian buildings along here, slowly being repainted and during the day it is quite nice, the evening equally so.

As I arrived in the Hastings new town I heard The Ruts, ‘Babylons Burning’ being played loudly by a cover band from the local ‘biker’ bar, crossing the road I stopped in for a look, just as the band finished. The pub is not my cup of tea, but I could see myself in there for a punk rock covers band on the odd and right occasion. I put a tick in the positive box and walked on. Two doors up from my BnB there was another pub, there are a lot of pubs here, all open and doing business, another good sign. This pub had a blues band going, knowing I would not be able to sleep and as it was close to throwing out time I ordered a Jamesons and sat at the back and enjoyed their last couple of songs. At last orders I had one more drink and basically waited till the place shut before heading to my room, and then not sleeping for a while.

I was up early on Saturday and off before 9:00, stopping for an excellent coffee on the pier and an OK fry-up in a greasy spoon cafe.

I walked back to St Leonards, past the flat for another look, it is just as quiet today. I would have expected nothing else. The flat is in Helena Court, at the top of Pevensey Road, a ten minute walk up a hill from St Leonards station and the main shopping streets. It is not somewhere you would go unless you needed to. There are a lot of hills here. Once I have settled and the flat is mine, I will post some photos of the interior.

There is a lot happening in St Leonards, it is another glorious day, loads of people about, there is street market in Kings Rd, the cafes are bursting, there is chatter and smiles. I stopped at a specialist photography gallery which had an exhibition of photos of David Bowie and talked to the owner for a while. Everyone I have met here has been nice.

I think I will be happy here !

Edinburgh Fringe

Sunday 05 August 2018 – Edinburgh.

A quick post, I am trying to catch up with a big backlog of photos I have taken in various places. As I commented in the last post I am going through a ‘cannot be bothered with the blog’ moment. Admittedly the blog has lasted way longer than I expected, so I am not killing it off. At least I don’t think so anyway.

Beyond his life as a Phd student El’s eldest son, Joe is a playwright, magician and theatre producer. He has been producing a show at Edinburgh Fringe for the past couple of years. This was the first year I have actually been in the country while Fringe is on, and able to visit. Edinburgh during Fringe is mad; and massively expensive. We had a packed couple of days ahead, starting with an early morning train. Train travel in the UK is an interesting thing. Highly and often deservedly derided, it can be extremely expensive, is often utterly unreliable, can be crowded and uncomfortable, but when it works it is brilliant. Today worked. The journey to Edinburgh from London is one of my favourites, booking early and travelling first class makes it that much more enjoyable. I can eat and drink the cost difference with ease.

We arrived early afternoon Friday with enough time to get to the small theatre for Joe’s first show ‘Creating Rumours’, a play set during the recording of Fleetwood Mac’s album ‘Rumours’. People who know me well, will know that this would be a real test of love. I fucking hate Fleetwood Mac, though I mostly enjoyed the show. The funniest thing about it was Joe with curly hair.

In the evening we went to see the stand-up comedian Reginald D. Hunter in a pre-festival warm up show. I have not seen or heard of him before, though El assured me I would enjoy it. She was right, I did. He was brilliant, if a little unpolished. This was a pre-fringe warm up and tickets were cheaper than they would be in the full show, he did acknowledge he was refining material and somethings wouldn’t work.

The walk back from the edge of the old town to our hotel in the new town was pretty special. Edinburgh is an amazing city, I love the place. It looks magnificent, the people are brilliant, it is busy, it buzzes, there is great food and drink, and, yeah it is a good place to be. Unless you want sleep. Then forget it…

On Saturday morning we visited the ‘Rip it Up’ history of Scottish pop exhibition at the Museum of Scotland. I 98% liked it. They had also made a three part TV series that we had seen, it was pretty good, though it had missed a lot of music I like, some of which was covered in the exhibition. However…. Why were The Exploited not mentioned once? Scotland’s finest and most enduring, and maybe even endearing punk band. Great to see Mogwai were represented though.

We took a long walk around the old town for a couple of hours before going to see the second of Joe’s productions ‘Strangers – Pairs’ a series of two piece magic vignettes. Much more my cup of tea.

That evening we went to see David Doherty, another stand up comedian. Unlike last night this was the proper show and it was utterly brilliant. I enjoyed last night, but this was another level of excellence. I laughed, a lot.

The sunset, and fireworks on display as we crossed the North St Bridge were amazing as well.

It was another relatively sleepless night, I got up once, around 3:00 as I thought someone was being killed in the street outside, the screaming was terrible. It was just idiots. My love for the city centre was waning. You know you are in a hotel that caters for a different market when there is a bottle opener screwed to the side of the desk!

On Sunday morning we visited the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. I am not a big fan of portraiture, which I guess is reflected in, the often, absence of people in my photos, however I really enjoyed the gallery. Designed around a history of Scotland, the paintings and the corresponding notes on the artist and the subject were informative, had a consistent narrative and made sense. The light was amazing and I convinced El to let me take her photo, again.

And that was it for Edinburgh. A quick weekend, lots of food, a whisky or two, some shows, some overcrowded madness, little sleep, but still, it is a great city. Fringe is madness, maybe not my thing, too many people, too expensive, but there is a big buzz in town and who can argue with that!

Back to Edinburgh Waverley Station for the train home. More lovely light and a last portrait or two.

Flat Hunting, St Leonards version

Wednesday 25 July 2018 – St Leonards and Hastings.

Oh I do want to be by the seaside.

I know I have banged on about it often enough over the past couple of years, but I have finally done it. I have found a flat I want to buy!

After months of procrastination, mind-changing (and laziness) I took three days off work this week to use up the last of my annual leave allocation. I spent the time in St Leonards and Hastings looking at flats. I eliminated Hastings during the week and decided to focus on one area and not two. I did the consult the font of all knowledge on things local; the ‘Down From London (DFL)’ BookFace group before making that decision. Though both places have their social issues; this is quite a deprived part of Britain, St Leonards just seems quieter, and that is important to me.

I arranged four flat viewings through various agents for Tuesday and took the train down on Monday morning, planning to spend those days looking round the area, doing some writing, photo editing and generally catching up. I didn’t too much of the writing and editing and catching up, but I did read most of a book.

I booked myself in to a lovely Victorian B and B on Pevensey St as two of the flats I wanted to view were in the street, so it made sense to stay in the area. The other two were on Warrior Square, which I think will just be too noisy. Though one of those Warrior Square flats was lovely. The B and B was brilliant, full or Victoriana, Russian and English religious icons and symbols from China and the far east. The owners were very well travelled and I was a bit jealous of all the things they have accumulated on their travels, though the house is very busy.

As it is a Victorian B and B there is no TV (thankfully there is wi-fi J ) and no shower. I was forced to lie in a bath each night and read my book, something I very much enjoyed.

On Monday night I had dinner and a glass of wine at Azur, a beach side restaurant and bar, it was OK, but it did have a great view though!

After breakfast on Tuesday I stopped for a great coffee at Graze. Key for me in enjoying this as a place to buy is to find one or two places that I can stop for coffee or a glass of wine, as well as having the option for a more traditional pint-of-beer style boozer pub. I have to have places that cater for me. Graze had a very good wine menu and I went there later in the evening for dinner, and again for more wine on Wednesday. One box ticked.

Tuesday I was meeting an ex-work colleague for lunch about three miles out of town, along the very long seafront, towards Bexhill. It was a glorious day and perfect for a walk. I took pictures as you would expect.

A lot of photos…

I even took some images that may (or not turn up in the exhibition I have in October. I have decided to print some really large (A1) prints of close-ups of plants with huge amounts of blurred backgrounds. I brought the big old Canon 5d with me so I would be forced to actually take photos seeing as I was lugging such a weight around.

I was knackered after a very hot walk so caught the bus back to Hastings after lunch. With some food and water inside and the lunch time and bus ride sit down I was re-energised and took a walk around The Stade. The Stade means ‘landing place’ in the ancient Saxon language and contains the largest beach launched fishing fleet in the Europe. It is a pretty cool place, full of old and new fishing boats, ancient and not so ancient tractors and bulldozers used to move the boats into and out of the water. Photographically it is a great spot, and another reason I have chosen this as a place to live, even if it is just part time.

Wednesday was flat viewing day, I didn’t have a lot of time for much else, I visited a couple of local shops to chat to the owners. There are a number of small independent shops around St Leonards and Hastings, lots of antique shops, second hand places, a great wine / beer shop and I even discovered a good record shop. It is all looking up. Everyone I spoke to was positive about the place, it is on the up. Though incomers like me are not 100% welcome, or so I understand. I saw no negativity.

The good news is I really liked one of the flats, it pushed all my buttons and I loved it when i walked in the door. Pending a visit at the weekend with Eleanor I will offer, I really value her opinion and she will see the things I miss and view it with head and not heart!

I did not do too much after the viewings, it is tiring looking at flats. After a rest I walked down to the waterfront for lunch at one of the beach cafes. I tried Goat Ledge and had the best fish-finger sandwich ever, another bonus find! After lunch (and a respectable gap, I was a boy scout and know you cannot go swimming immediately after eating) I took to the sea. It was not too bad. It is a pebble beach, and stretches for miles in each direction. It never gets crowded!

In the evening I met up with some of the Bookface group I am a member of and went to see a local light jazz singer perform at an album launch in one of the pubs in Hastings Old Town. The music was tiresome, but it was good to meet and chat to others who have made the move down from London, and see that there is some nightlife as well. The pub was packed, as were some of the others.

Thursday, I was back in the car and back to London. Mission accomplished. Successfully. I liked St Leonards and Hastings.

El and I came back down the following Saturday, she loved the place as much as me, though pointed out it needed a lick of paint, and a bit of love. I never noticed the paint. I have offered, it has been accepted and I am now in the process of purchasing.

PPS

I seem to have lost interest in the blog in the last few weeks, I have huge backlog of things I would blog if I had the time and the motivation, but it is waning. This wont be the final post. I am thinking of just doing some photo posts for a bit until I catch up with myself. I also want to write better, and that takes time and I have to be in the right headspace, somewhere I do not find myself in very often these days.

There will be more, maybe once I have moved.

Thanks to those who read me. xxx

Greensted Church. The world’s oldest wooden church.

Saturday 21 July 2018 – Chipping Ongar, Essex.

I love the names of some English Villages. ‘Chipping Ongar’, it couldn’t be anywhere else but England. It is not too far from home, just north of the M25 motorway into rural Essex.

Though we didn’t go into the village, our destination for this drive was Greensted Church in the countryside outside.

Greensted Church is the oldest wooden church in the world and one of the oldest wooden buildings still standing in Europe. The wooden walls date back about 1000 years, the brick work from the 16th century and the white wooden tower from the 17th.

It is a beautiful building.

A walk along the River Lea

Saturday 14 June 2018 – Walthamstow to Liverpool St.

I am pretty sure I start every post off with the fact that I have been very busy and I am way behind with writing and photo-editing. I can at least say this time that I am up to date with photo-editing. However, I am now six weeks behind in post writing, with five left to do to just catch up, and now I have two big things on that are consuming all my non-working hours.

After a small amount of negotiation I have an offer agreed on a flat purchase in St Leonards-on-Sea, on the East Sussex coast. I have taken a few trips down there over the past couple of months, more on those trips in a later post. Naturally I am very happy with this. Though of course it will mean I will have a lot less money.

I also have an exhibition of photography coming up in October. My favourite local cafe are giving me their walls for two months and I am going to show 13 photos, they will be big photos!

That is the future dealt with, now back to the past!

It was one of those nice Saturdays back in July, the middle of the longest and hottest summer for many a year. There was a record out I wanted to buy and I thought it would be a good idea to take the 8 mile trip to Brick Lane on foot. Most of the journey is quite nice, along the River Lea and canal tow paths.

I also wanted to get some images I could use for the exhibition, some close up shots of grasses and plants as I passed through Walthamstow Marshes, the Middlesex Filterbeds and along the Lea itself.

So here they all are!

It took me three and a bit hours to get to Rough Trade, and they didn’t have the record I wanted. I was in no way disappointed, it had been a great walk.

The Epping Forest Project, Phase 7 – July.

July was a bit of a wash out. I only made it to the forest once. El and I took a bery enjoyable walk from home to Chingford, following the bike trails I would normally ride.

I took a few photos but they are all terrible, so here is the only one I saved. A face in a tree.

Hopefully August will be more inspiring.

Fear of the Walking Dead.

Sunday 01 July 2018 – Xelardo, Lliria, Valencia, Spain.

Acting innocent, trying to blend, look like a local or a regular visitor, someone possibly walking, in my case, an imaginary dog, I wait for the lone car to pass down this quiet, dusty road. As soon as it is out of sight, with pounding heart and sweat pouring (it is Spain and really hot) I scramble through the hole in the fence and into a scene from The Walking Dead.

Welcome to Camping Aguas de Lliria. Contentiously and rapidly abandoned in 2009, the site is a ghostly reminder of what was a large campground with some permanent residents. I am not sure how long it was open but this website suggests it was running for at least 15 years before the council at, very short notice, closed it down for supposedly not having a permit when it was originally built, locking residents and holiday makers out.

On reading the website I was shocked to see the place had been closed for so long. There is lots of rubbish and some vandalism, but nothing that says almost 10 years have passed. Perhaps its isolation and the dry weather has allowed for some level of preservation? We will see.

Before venturing to the campground I wanted to check the abandoned house I visited last year. There was an old stuffed chair in one of its three rooms and I hoped it was still lurking, lumpen, in the corner. I approached cautiously again, a little nervous. I didn’t want to run into the owner. I now know this is private property and being semi-rural the likelihood is no one speaks English. My Spanish is worse than poor, even the words I do know come out sounding mangled, dulled by my flat New Zealand accent. Unintelligible.

Approaching, I saw a stuffed chair outside the front door, someone had tried to burn it, stuffing had been ripped, but it had been resilient to their attempts. I was pleased, this was not the end I wanted for my chair. I wanted a long slow gradual decay, perhaps to be found by future generations, still lurking, lumpen in its corner.

Passing inside the door, over broken glass and other detritus I discovered the outside chair must have been the twin of mine, for there mine was still lurking, still lumpy and tatty; but mostly complete. Unburnt, unmoved, still dignified. Still in the corner where I first found it.

People have been here since I last came, there is more damage to the interior, more rubbish on the ground, dead fires, empty and smashed bottles. Signs of small parties, youthful nights, exuberance and stupidity. Sometimes I miss those days.

I start to head in the direction of the campsite, discovering I am not too far from a road, and a house. A car comes down the road and stops. I am standing on the edge of a ploughed field, sort of behind a small scrubby tree, a man gets out of the car, though just walks to, and then in to, the driveway of the house. Phew. I beat a hasty retreat, back over the slight ridge, past the house and up a small rocky trail to some old gates that I know, from last year, lead to land that is open and used by locals to walk their dogs.

I feel more certain of my legitimacy and stop to take some photos of the grass and these weird little plants that I like the look of, but have no idea what they are called.

Soon I am walking down the road, along the fence line of the campsite, looking for entry points; maybe rapid exit points if needed later. I find a way in, a gap big enough to get through quickly. Just as I approach, a car comes down the road. I start to walk purposefully, innocently, waving to the driver as he passes, slowing immediately he is gone. I wait till the car is out of sight, then turn back and quickly enter into the campground, into a scene from The Walking Dead, thankfully without the flesh eating zombies.

It immediately feels strange, as if crossing through that chain link fence has crossed me into another less joyful dimension. It ‘feels’ quiet, deserted. Both are good things, hopefully reality will match the feeling and I will not come across anyone or anything that presents a danger.

I get the camera out of my bag, I have bought the old 5d with a 50mm lens, nothing fancy, no big heavy lenses and nothing that would get caught on the fence if I have to make a hurried exit. There is a surprisingly large amount of stuff, the result of the rapid departure of the people who lived here.

There has been some vandalism, though I am surprised at the condition after nine or so years of desertion, there are even some windows that have not been smashed. Though there is a ton of rubbish strewn about.

I can see people have dossed/camped or hidden away here over the years, small fire pits are scattered here and there. I am guessing the council or the original owners used to sweep through here in the early days. Numerous holes in the fence have been repaired, but more have been made and I spotted three or four as I walked down the road, keeping an eye on escape points.

I am still a bit nervous, I worry about wild dogs, and wilder people. The image of disturbed zombies does not leave my mind. I know these things do not exist, but…

I do not wander too far in, I am not that courageous. The place is massive, far bigger than it looks from outside, a large portion has been burnt down, though none of the fixed dwellings look fire damaged. There is some irony to be found.

After thirty minutes of quiet skulking I decide to leave. Heading back to the hole I came in, I walk up the road to the chained entrance. Stopping to take a photo through the gate. A final reminder that my fears a zombie apocalypse had occurred as I crossed dimensions were not entirely unfounded. It was good to be back in the real world again. I think.

Was this the best paella?

Tuesday July 3 2018 – Valencia, Spain.

This is my fourth, and Eleanor’s third visit to Valencia, staying with friends Paula and Paul in their holiday home on the edge of Lliria, a small town at the far end of one of the Metro lines. We are all here for three nights, with not a lot planned apart from lunch on Sunday with an old work mate. My idea for this trip was to relax, drink cheap lager and wine in and round the pool, eat some food and do some planning, photo editing and writing. I also wanted to make a sneaky visit to the abandoned camp ground nearby.

In hindsight I think the trip was pretty good, but in the immediate aftermath I considered it a bit of a failure. I didn’t really achieve any planning, photo editing or do much writing. That was probably good, I needed to make some time to relax. The reason for the lack of photo editing was the cable for the portable hard drive that contains all my photos disappeared somewhere between security at Stansted Airport and the arrival hall in Valencia. To say I was pissed off would be an understatement. It did remind me that I HAVE to do a backup of that drive when I get home and have a replacement cable…

Sunday we met ex-work-mate, Fran, for lunch. Fran is Valencian, returning from London earlier this year. He has long recommended Casa Carmela for the best paella in town and was keen to introduce us to it, and we were keen to accept the offer.

It is a scorcher of a day, 30 degrees plus, with the clearest sky and not a breath of breeze to speak of. A lot of Valencians were hitting the beach, and it was a very crowded tram ride from the station to the sea front; but so nice to travel by tram rather than car or foot.

We arrived early and took the opportunity to walk along the beach front, Casa Carmela being at the far end of the beach from the tram stop. The beach was very busy, I should have bought swimming gear with me, I cannot remember the last time I was in the sea, I miss it.

The walk along the promenade is nice, too hot to be thoroughly enjoyable. Being able to stop for a very cold San Miguel at the far end was a fine reward and made walking in the heat almost bearable. Stupidly (or arrogantly) I did not put any sun screen on my face before we left and I could feel my skin tightening and burning as we walked. There was not a lot of shade till the beach bar. Lesson possibly learned.

Lunch at Casa Carmela was everything I had been led to believe. We had an extraordinary local white wine and the bbqed squid was just exceptional, I have never had squid that nice, nor expect to again, unless we come back. However, we were there for the paella, not the squid nor the wine, and we were not let down. The seafood paella was massive, unbelievably we all ate till bursting, yet there was still some left at the end. It was as good as Fran had said.

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There was a tiny, tiny space left after the paella, even the dessert stomach had been used up. Fran suggested a cafe bombon to wrap up the perfect Valencian meal. Cafe Bombon originated in Valencia and is a European version of coffee found all over SE Asia, a shot of espresso mixed with sweetened condensed milk. I absolutely loved this drink on my travels in Asia and did not know existed in Europe. It was perfect and a fine end to a very enjoyable feasting experience.

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After lunch we piled into Fran’s car and he took us to a nearby horcheta bar, horcheta is a non-alcoholic drink made from tiger nut and is a regional speciality. I have had it before and it is very nice, like a mildly sweet milk shake, and over ice was very welcome on such a hot day. The bar had the TV on and a good crowd there for the Spain v Russia world cup game, the other reason for going there. Surprisingly, and sadly Spain lost, so it was a quiet crowd that left after the game.

Late that afternoon I went on a small tour of discovery in the abandoned campground I came across last time we visited. Camping Aguas De Lliria was shut down by the council in 2009 and my next post I will explore it and the nearby fields more closely.

The following day we did not do much, lots of reading, some eating, swimming, lounging etc.

Perhaps some watching of football on the telly. The sunset was verging, on but was not quite, spectacular.

I have seen spectacular here before, and good as this sunset was, it was not up to that standard.

Tuesday was all about packing, cleaning, waiting for a delayed flight back to London and then home.

The answer was yes, that was the best paella….

The Epping Forest Project, Phase 6 – June.

Another crazy month! June passed in a blur of activity and as I sit here writing at the end of July, June just seems so long ago. This year is disappearing too quickly. Some days I find myself mentally looking for the stop button so I can put a temporary halt to life and get some rest, though I can never find the damn thing. As I look forward to August and further beyond I see no respite, I am going to have to plan a weekend of NOTHING. Sticking to it will be the hard part.

A few months ago I started seeing a career coach, Nat. I was looking for advice on how I can transition from my IT job into something different, something I enjoy, can make a basic living from and can carry into those first years of ‘retirement’. I have really enjoyed seeing Nat and over time the sessions have morphed into discussions on a range of things. The last couple have looked at what holds me back from doing things, and tactics to challenge those barriers. One of thing has been a reluctance to do anything with my photography. Another is an inability to take photos when I feel people are watching and perhaps judging me. I miss taking a lot of photos if I feel that I look like some sort of weirdo taking photos of inane or uninteresting objects or scenes. Stupid I know, but this is something that goes on in my head pretty much every time I go out with my camera.

Both of those things are around bravery and confidence. I am not, not have very much of either. I know I did a lot of travelling back when this blog started, that took a massive leap in confidence. Looking back it was still very safe travelling, not that I am disrespecting my travelling and what I achieved with it. It was life changing. Some may say that continuing to write this blog is a challenge to the reluctance to put myself out there. However the blog is pretty anonymous, I would be surprised if many people I know actually know this blog exists. I I do not share the blog widely, rarely is it linked to in FB or Twitter.

I have taken a couple of steps to challenge this lack of confidence. Firstly I talked to Buhler and Co, our local cafe about holding an exhibition there during the e17 Art Trail during June 2019. The art trail is a big event, lots of artists and lots of venues, it has been running for years and is quite popular. Sadly, they already have an artist booked for next year, but they have asked me if I would like to show some photos for two months starting in October. Two months to plan, shoot, frame and hang a number of photos for three walls in a very busy cafe. No challenge then!

Secondly, I decided for the June month of my photo project I would go to the busiest part of Epping Forest, suck up my reluctance, my lack of confidence and my avoidance of any potential embarrassment and take photos of what I wanted, how I wanted and where I wanted.

It was an interesting session, this area of the forest is not the most photogenic in my opinion, and summer is not great for forest photography – it is all too green.

I was again experimenting with intentional camera movement photography (ICM). Continuing to develop my style within this genre. I was initially proposing using some of these in this exhibition and the cafe were happy with this idea.

I am still pondering using ICM images, but am tending towards doing a series of close up photos of grass and the plants within them. I have been taking a lot of photos like this lately. This is one of those areas where I feel uncomfortable. Standing in a field with my camera shoved into the grass, ‘What will people be thinking’ is what goes through my head, not ‘wow this grass is amazing to take photos of’.

I loved this tree and its fungal growth. Sadly none of the photos I took of the fungus were interesting or good enough to share. But I liked the face in the tree and the jaunty cap. I spent a lot of time on this tree, using the tripod, different lenses, and avoiding looking at the people looking at me as they walked past.

It was good to challenge my own fear. I just need to do it every time I pick up a camera!

Wax Chattels @ Lock Tavern

Tuesday 26 June 2018 – Wax Chattels @ Camden Lock.

I am a massive fan of Auckland, by way of Dunedin, band Die! Die! Die!. I believe they are the band I have seen the most often over the 38 years I have been going to gigs. It is fortunate that they come to London pretty regularly. I have seen them three times since I have been here, only missing their last gig here as I was too sick to go.

Wax Chattels are a young Auckland band, also a three piece and clearly influenced by Die! Die! DieI, though with one massive difference; Wax Chattels have keyboards rather guitar as the lead instrument. They have been described as a “guitarless guitar band”, an apt, and frankly brilliant description for them.

Wax Chattels released an LP a few weeks ago and have come to London for a couple of release shows. The first was on Saturday night, however El and I were already at a gig, seeing the mighty My Bloody Valentine, a band I have always wanted to see, but have never had the chance to before. This was My Bloody Valentine’s first UK show in over five years, so I wasn’t going to miss that.

Fortunately there was a second gig, on a Tuesday night in Camden. It is not my favourite night to go out, but at least Camden is not a major pain to get too, and it would be a reasonably early one. Plus, it was free.

This was my third gig in six days, definitely a record for me.

I got to the Lock Tavern in Camden pretty early, far too early in fact and had to wait for most of an hour for the support band, Careers, to come on. They were Ok, a bit derivative, a bit London indie pop. Un-offensive but not spectacular, there were a couple of good tracks and I was entertained enough. The light was really poor, and the stage was between two doors to an open balcony holding a private party and the daylight just streamed in. None of my photos were any good sadly.

There was a thirty minute wait for Wax Chattels to get their gear ready and come on stage, it was still pretty light outside, but the light was slightly better. I wasn’t really banking on a full room, so didn’t get myself a spot for taking photos until it was too late. I grabbed a few shots from one side of the stage before moving to the other. I took the big camera and the 50mm lens, but even shooting wide open it was still a bit too dark for the low top-end ISO this old beast of a camera has.

They were really good, great songs, and good performances, nice to see from a young band playing a free gig to a small, albeit full room. Highlights for me were Concrete, Shrinkage (the best Die Die Die song not written by Die Die Die) and In my mouth, a song I do not particularly like on the LP. It made more sense live.

This is my favourite image from the night.

I really enjoyed the show, and did buy the LP from the merch stand. Hopefully they will be back in London soon. I would definitely pay money to see them again. This is my favourite image from the night.