Tea for two

A typical Boys’ Day Out (BDO) almost invariably involves a tea shop. The Old Stable is little more than a stone’s throw from my home. Dave and I found ourselves in need of a visit, late one recent Saturday afternoon. Well, our morning’s cooked breakfast had worn off by then, and we’d only had a light snack for lunch.

Happily tired from playing lighting games in a nearby church with our big cams, I simply stuck my little point-and-shoot on a self timer setting, plopped it atop a convenient table, then let it focus where it would, and expose for what it could. We assumed the position: cups and saucers at the ready. Dave waited for the flash. I didn’t, because I knew there wouldn’t be one.

A Bit of Old Wood

As I've mentioned before, there are times when I grow concerned that Peter and I spend too much time surrounded by the arcane and subtle lures of religion. We had no sooner gained entry to the graceful little church of St Mary's, Hill Croome, than Peter was eyeing up the centuries-old Jacobean pulpit. I could sense his eagerness to get up there and pontificate. And why not; he's a fine speaker.

We needed an excuse and one was at hand. Earlier in the day I'd acquired, second-hand, another Nikon flashgun. I needed to try it out with the original and the ideal combo would be in a set-up sometimes called key and counter-key. On Peter's right was a small window emitting a feeble northern light. I helped it, not with a nourishing mug of chicken soup, but by bouncing one of my flashes off of the cream coloured surround. Over his left shoulder I fired off the second flash, direct and unmediated by any flaking paint finish. The result; a classic combination of a warm main light (the key, soft and bounced) and a hard, cold kick from behind, diagonally opposite (the counter-key or kicker). The candles were lit for effect; in reality the face is over lit for candle light. What surprised us both was how much light came back off the old wood, avoiding the need to treat it separately - normally dark wood soaks up illumination as eagerly as a cat licks up cream (or is it Guinness?).

Anyway, sorry about the technical rabbiting - just fancied doing it for a change rather than talking about the weather, or the state of British roads, or whether we will ever find out where it is in the universe that ball-point pens disappear to (along with small screwdrivers, lens caps and, in my case, shutter releases).

Little & large

I believe there's plenty of room in a friendship to accommodate differences, as well as celebrate similarities.

Fleet of foot

For a big man, Dave is remarkably quick and nimble: one minute he's standing right in front of you, the next, he's disappeared down the road, out of sight. Mind you, he's usually only gone as far as the nearest tea shop.

Ahoy, Me Hearties!

Peter's always waiting for me to post something so that he can reply with one of his images showing me in some incongruous or debilitating position. So as not to disappoint, here are a couple of snaps from our recent outing to Gloucester Docks.

Still Waiting

While Peter was fossicking amongst the daffs and crocuses (or is that croci?) I was in a common image-gathering pose - lying flat out on the ground.

I'd made an assault on these snowdrops earlier in the week and not been happy with the results, partly because I hadn't noticed that I'd left my camera bag visible in some of the shots. Passing through Cirencester again a few days later gave me a second chance. While still not over-the-moon (I'm very difficult to please), at least there's no longer a big black blob sitting unattractively on top of the tomb.


The interior of Tetbury parish church, built 1780, comes as something of a surprise to devotees, like myself, of the Cotswold wool churches; the columns are minuscule in diameter compared to the robustness of the Norman, Early English and Perpendicular versions I'm used to. As Peter discovered, the outer surface is of wood. This covers an iron core and gives the whole space a very light feel, albeit with a strong sense that the proportions are not of this world. (I think that's my first use of the word 'albeit' in these pages, notwithstanding past efforts - ah, first use of 'notwithstanding' as well).

Nurse! More pills, I'm starting to write in Victorian.

Cirencester churchyard

By the way, Dave isn't always supine in the shrubbery. Can you spot him here?