A Whole Lotta Love

Close to the fantastic campsite we stayed at in the Forest of Dean (notice how positive I'm being? It's because I'm going out for a vegan pizza tonight - at least that's what I'll be ordering; we'll see how they cope!) was a roadsign. The road sign was covered in hearts. Unfortunately it was also getting dark and what light there would have been was also hidden beyond a canopy of trees below a heavy sky.

I don't recall what the village was called, though it had a green with a red phonebox, which was nice, and clearly a lot of happy young loved-up kids who spent their evenings professing their adoration for each other on this dirty old sign. Either that or it was a noticeboard for local doggers, but I prefer to think of it as the former...

I'm far from convinced that this photograph (the heart) is in focus, but for me it works nonetheless. A good photo (and I'm not suggesting that this is one of my better shots, but I like it) can work regardless of technical perfection, I think. I see a lot of technically marvelous but deadly dull shots around, and I'd rather have a picture that says what it was meant to say despite being technically inferior than a picture that didn't speak to me. This one I can look at and it clearly says 'sit'... but I hope it helps to tell the story of this romantic / dirty place.

That's my excuse, anyway.

Here's That Coffee I Promised You

Looking back over the last few posts I noticed how negative they were, so thought a shot of caffiene might help.

Hand rails are a good place to find hearts, so obviously a good place to leave them too. They present a challenge, photographically, as they can appear too flat, or the background beyond can be distracting. Sometimes the light reflects too much if the surface is glossy, and I have to decide between a straight-on shot or whether to shoot at an angle - generally I shoot straight-on with the hearts, but I vary it from time to time. This one's nice as the accompanying picture has a similarly narrow depth of field, so you get a lovely mottled effect as a foil to the focussed areas.

I do love finding hearts without names attached too. They're left by people who have a need to express non-specific love to all around them. The world needs more people like that.

What's to Love in Weymouth?

Without wishing to be rude, it's a bit grim in Weymouth. It wasn't helped by the wet weather, but the gravelly beach, the run down side streets, the Standard British High Street, the traffic, the Pleasure Pier (where I couldn't find a single pleasure to be had, unless you count Schadenfreude), and the way the train tips you out into what appears to be a mini red light district.

I couldn't help thinking that in just four years time a place that at the moment has all the charm of a faded turd will have to be polished into something that won't be overwhelmigly shameful to see. The Olympics (of which I'm not a big fan) is not that far away, and Weymouth will be hosting the sailing events. It's just my opinion, but whatever people may say, sailing is not a poor person's sport, while Weymouth is very much a poor person's holiday resort. I know the supposed point of hosting the Olympics is regeneration, but there just isn't the time or money to fix Weymouth as well as London... I wonder what an international crowd of yachting enthusiasts will make of it...

Anyhoo, enough negativity. On the positive side, the kids loved it, there are some lovely examples of old seaside architecture, I found a good book in a charity shop and an OK pub to sit and read it in, and I know that the old Weymouth, over the river is a lot nicer than the centre, where I was. But then, I was looking for graffiti, so it's the tatty tourist bit I was after. This was taken down towards the Sealife centre, where I was dropping ladies and the children, and I'm really pleased with it. This is a great heart, and as I was taking it my cynical side was thinking 'should be a seller', and the landscape side sums Weymouth up too I think. Faded, tatty, but optimistic.

A Wet Week In Wales

Just returned from a wet weekend on the Welsh borders. To be fair, a lot of the wet was in England, but it was coming at us from the west, so there we go. We camped in the Forest of Dean on the way up, myself, Vick, 2 kids and the dog all in one tent - cosy! This image was taken at Symond's Yat, one of the area's honeypot destinations, and something of a disappointment. That's the curse of the honeypot destination - everyone goes expecting something fantastic, when actually it's just pleasant. Suprisingly good coffee at the cafe, though (picture to follow) and two hearts on the footbridge to the rock.

The picture above let me repeat one of my perpetual favourites - a road toward brightness. I always feel spiritual when I take a shot like this, and wonder whether I should take up religion, then good sense returns and I remember my skepticism. One day, I'll walk towards the light and see what's round the corner... in this case I know it to be a steep descent towards the Saracen's Head - a pub, of course.

I've mentioned before my love of serendipity - and here's another example. Also on the bridge, another (rather lovely) heart, and just around the corner, a bag of shite. Read into this what you will about love, but to me this is evidence that dog does indeed move in mysterious ways.

I Love Swanage

It's a funny thing, living in a holiday resort. People come from all over the country to spend their valuable holiday time in the place we think of as home, and yet some of the people that live here all year round just don't realise how very lucky they are! The downside is that when you work for yourself, as I do, you have to keep remembering that you're not on holiday and you have things to do...

What makes me think this right now is that the weather outside is frightfully nice, as hot as you'd expect in the med, the sea is warm(ish) and inviting, and the town is full of carnival fun. Oh, and the kids are at home, sat beside me right now watching TV. We have a summer of beach, beach, beach, fireworks every weekend, stunning landscape to walk in and then pubs and cafes to spend my hard earned cash in... which I'm not earning because I'm enjoying myself too much! Eek!

Anyhoo, I wanted to put this picture up that I took a couple of weeks ago. Soft sand and blue skies. Youthful love expressed in an idyllic location. Ok, it's not the Bahamas, but come on... it's pretty damn good here!

Parental Guidance Needed on This One!

Only last week I'd been thinking how suprised I was that I'd never found any rude and lude 'I loves' - so when I found this while walking along Swanage beach I was, it must be said, extremely chuffed! The grafitti - sprayed on soft sandstone of the cliff, and amongst other tags and pretty poor pictures - was also directly above this broken canoe. I'm not sure it's an official euphamism for anything, but I'm sure a 'broken canoe' could mean something...

Rule number 1 in my book is to find a landscape or an element of the surroundings in which I find the heart, and so often sernedipity plays its part. Sometimes there's a 'Bob loves Sue' and nearby there'll be two bins stood next to each other, which looked at in a certain way look as though they're nestling together, or two bikes leant against each other, or two happy looking windows in a wall, and here we have an 'I love cock' directly above a phallic object. Clearly, if God exists, she loves me.

Cut Out Hearts

Here's a different take on grafitti, and one that is possibly just pure vandalism, but very nicely done. We had just arrived by train in Florence and just outside the station was a three sided fabric advertising display for a movie, and in each side was cut a perfect heart.

As the rain fell, I took these images, and I'm pleased with the results - I hope that on screen they have the same effect as they do in print. The cut-away heart feels like an overlay rather than a hole, and the picture plays with the sense of space. I spent some time while taking them moving slowly around the display, watching the way the inside of the structure moved within the heart, and as I moved the heart on the far side allowed a glimpse through to the tourists and commuters behind the screen.

I must have looked very odd. Happily my children aren't old enough to be embarrassed by me yet, and after all these years, Vick has got used to it.