Photographer AND Boxing Yoga Coach!!

BoxingYoga Coach

A little short of three years ago I ran into a guy called Matt Garcia He was talking about something called 'Boxing Yoga'. Having practised yoga fairly consistently for many years I asked 'what the hell is that?'

From there I embarked on a 20-day/do as much as you can introduction to Boxing Yoga.

Held at the formidable boutique Boxing club that is Total Boxer I was trained by chief yogi Kajza Ekberg and my first impression was 'this lady is mad if she thinks I can do that'. Full of encouragement I went back for more, and it is fair to say that I soon fell in love with it.

A yoga regime deigned for Boxers, athletes and anyone who wants a
serious workout, this is where it's at.

Roll forward a year and I was ready to try boxing as a sport - how quickly you get hooked: Boom Boom!

Throughout that time I have been gently pushed to places I never considered, and guided by a bunch of amazing and inspirational people.

Thanks goes to Katarina Hromnikova and Denise Grundmann for showing how it's done and special thanks goes to the superstar that is Deniz Ates who has given his time generously towards this auspicious day...

Today I passed my Boxing Yoga Teacher training assessment, so can now officially kick butt wherever I see fit!

Thanks to my lovely friends who attended today's session in the intense heat Daisy Caird Tom Aldrich-Smith Laura Ann Coates Ben Casablanca Els Caballero-Kolster Jackie Mcmanus Tasha Burroughs

The future is bright...the future is Boxing Yoga!

http://www.boxingyoga.com

xx

 

Photo London (with a large pinch of Alec Soth)

I headed down to Somerset House on a brighter-than-expected day, where Photo London was being held for a second year. Bringing together eighty of the world's leading galleries and offering a series of talks, exhibitions and book signings, this is a great event to connect with what is going down in the photographic world. 

I joined the queue for a talk I had booked between the photographer Alec Soth and curator of Media Space at the Science museum, Kate Bush. It was a sell-out affair in a basement auditorium. I was sat quite far back, so couldn't see much of Alec and Kate, but there were four TV screens on stilts dotted around the room. These were used to show photos of Alec's work, spanning the past ten years; fragments of stories from his travels across central America. Kate tried to draw him into a history in line with some of the great American photographers, but he tried to emphasise how he hadn't consciously gone out to emulate a tradition, but was looking for stories from an often misrepresented portion of American society. 

Alec's work pieces together landscapes, portraits and individual items, sometimes photographed and sometimes real. He talked of how he often finds photography restrictive, and struggles with the lack of narrative in the single image. This is something I am working on myself. 

Mostly as an aside to the conversation, the slides were being changed intermittently. When discussing Soth's work Broken Manual, about men who had attempted to escape the conformist lifestyle end lived as hermits or runaways, Kate suggested we discussed a particular image: A wide shot of a flat surface with something small and rubbery on top - to me it looked like a leg-of-lamb. Just peaking in the side was the end of a measuring rule. Alex squirmed as he said 'Kate. Well, this is what we call a pocket-pussy, and something a lone man in a forest may carry around with him'. She blushed and the audience giggled. A moment shared!

Alec mused that he runs a 'pretend company' called Little Brown Mushroom, under which he posts any social media. Every Friday he posts a poem...

Kate was asking him about his 'fame' and he offered us the idea of striving to be as authentic as possible in his work, always. Something that most artists will associate with, and something that must get harder once you have built a reputation on a certain project or style: how to create your own work when the eyes of the world are watching you.

It happened to be a Friday, so Alec read a little from the day's poem which relates to the idea of losing yourself to the darker side of fame:

'The Strife between the Poet and Ambition' by Thomas Merton, starts:

Money and fame break in the room

And find the poet all alone.

They lock the door, so he won't run, And turn the radio full-on

And beat the poor dope like a drum.

I only became aware of Alec's work around 18 months ago when I saw 'Charles, Vasa, Minnesota, 2002'.  http://alecsoth.com/photography/?page_id=14

Something about that image made me want to find out more. 

I was very excited then, when I discovered last Autumn that he would be showing at The Media Space in the Science Museum. The exhibition Gathered Leaves which brought together work from four of his collections created over the past decade.

At Photo London there was an opportunity to buy the boxed work from this exhibition, so I hot-footed it to the publishers section full of excitement. Hmm, it cost three times my budget, and I'm slightly embarrassed to say that I had to call my Mum to ask if she wanted to contribute in advance of my birthday. After explaining that no, I didn't need it, but it would be a good investment and a great reference she agreed, and I got to meet the man. I told him I had been to his talk, and he asked what I thought, suggesting that it was a bit short. I said it was good to know that we all struggle, and he joked that he was struggling now as he couldn't get the box to close. 

There was more than Alec Soth, honest!

Looking at Mick

Looking at Mick

I made my way to the galleries area, where some great photographers are being represented by people in suits to sell their works. 

My first encounter was a young Sloane-style couple wafting pass the artworks. The woman  laughingly indicated a striking image of a young Rolling Stones to her suitor 'that would look amazing in your living room'. The man yawningly stating 'can we hurry up as I quickly get bored in these places'. To be fair, I have heard this mantra over and over, across the class divide. Seriously.

Without intention,  the first gallery I saw represented Mr. Soth, and I got to see some works I hadn't seen before. There was some great work from the Ibasho gallery, Antwerp who had various oriental photographers under their belts including some evocative work of Cherry Blossom trees by Yoshinori Mizutari...nice to see how each artist interprets a subject with such varaition.

Then there were the stunning photographs from Nick Brandt's series 'Inherit the Dust'. In real life they were a good three metres wide. Check this out! http://nickbrandt.inheritthedust.com there was a transaction taking place.

I wouldn't want to hazard a guess at how much one of them would set you back, but to know that Photography is being seen as a serious investment to collectors is a good thing.  

Other highlights were Don Mcullin - I am always glad to see his work as he is the photographer I admired and wrote about most when studying for my A levels and beyond.

Don McCullin

Don McCullin

Don McCullin has more recently been photographing the fringes of the Roman Empire. He shot a series in Palmyra within the last decade, which has highlighted again, how easily history comes back to haunt us, and for me, why it is important to record …

Don McCullin has more recently been photographing the fringes of the Roman Empire. He shot a series in Palmyra within the last decade, which has highlighted again, how easily history comes back to haunt us, and for me, why it is important to record our lives today. Things can change very quickly.

Another large exhibition was that of Russian photographer Sergey Chilikov.  I didn't find his work instantly impressive, but it works well in the context it was made: A response to a stark and oppressive life under the Brezhnev era of the USSR.       

The curator, Olga Sviblova says "Sergey Chilikov's photography is a unique way of visualising Chekov's worldview, in which the absurd and the torment of the free spirit are found in the closed contexts of everyday banality. http://flashbak.com/photoprovocations-sergei-chillikov-draft-60200/

I'm not the only one who enjoyed myself!

I'm not the only one who enjoyed myself!

 

 

 

The Final Frontier

I awoke on our final day to a soft watery sound, and hoped it had something to do with the Onsen. I drew back the curtain, and saw a heavy rain was falling. The mountains were cloaked in a heavy fog. I told Samuel 'I don't think we'll be seeing Mount Fuji'. 

We went down to the basement where the only inclusive-breakfast of our trip was to be served. First up was a whole fried fish, which Samuel quickly declined.

The buffet consisted of rice: dry or in a porridge style, shredded lettuce, a green-bean salad, potato salad and a whole load of strange looking vegetation, pickles and packaged items. One thing I picked up was some kind of bean, coated in a glue-typed substance accompanied with little packets of mustard and possibly soy sauce. As I peeled back the lid I reeled from the stench, but determined to try, my tastebuds went into overload: it was sharp and sour and pretty vile.

One of the ladies apologised for not having any bread or sausages. We weren't sure if we had missed them, or she had an awareness of what a westerner might want.

Half-fed we left the Ryokan for a very wet walk. We headed into the main part of Hakone down the hills and past a gushing river. At least the umbrella didn't have a wasted journey! 

I tested Samuel's patience whilst waiting for the perfect composition for a shot I had set up. We watched trains coming down the mountain-side then went to the Tourist office to ask what we could do in four hours, in the driving rain. Turns out just enough to satisfy our souls...

We hopped aboard the Hakone Tozan Line train formed of three squat carriages, and were fascinated when the train came to a stop at a buffer. The driver got out and proceeded to the other end of the train where he set off again, driving in the opposite direction. Because of the way the tracks are laid into the mountain it makes a zigzag journey uphill. I think the driver exchanged ends four times in total. At the final destination we swapped for a bus and headed for Motohakone-ko, making a pit-stop for hot chocolate which we drank whilst looking out the rain-lashed window. We could see Lake Ashi and snatched a glimpse of a sight-seeing (well, maybe not today) boat traversing the water. This is where on a fine day you would go out on the lake and witness the majesty of Mount Fuji. We would have to make do with pictures on this trip. 

Adopting the 'Keep calm, it's only water' attitude, we walked onwards toward the cedar lined avenue that leads to Hakone-jinja Shrine. Then down a stone stairway to the lakes edge and the red torri (gate). This was mammoth, and the painted red figure stood out more than ever against a grey sky. 

By this point our shoes were squelchy, and the wind had picked up, so we walked back to 'town' to await a bus, taking us all the way back to Hakone.

We had two thousand yen left, so peered at restaurant menus, making sure we could afford the meal. It is not common to tip in Japan, so we could manage a bowl of steaming noodles each and be left with 50 yen - around 30 pence.

The stooped old lady in charge started saying 'window, window' to us. Ah! I exclaimed to Samuel...she wants us to point at what we want in the window. We've managed a lot by utilising hand signals and nods of the head!

We collected our baggage from the Ryokan and proceeded on our final trip to, and across Tokyo, finishing on the monorail to add to our myriad rail journeys.

Annoyingly, I had wound down the Yens, but needed to get some money to pay for the monorail as it wasn't included on the rail-pass. It can be quite a task finding an ATM that allows foreign-card usage, and when you do, the minimum withdrawal is often 10,000 Yen - around £60.00. The budget was going well until the last two days!

Japan is still very much a cash-country which if I was a native would suit me just fine. 

We got to the airport with plenty of time and boarded our Air France plane to Paris Charles de Gaulle. We managed some sleep, two movies and they served Champagne as an aperitif. Gotta love the French!

A couple of hours before landing a fellow passenger came to speak to me, saying she'd been told we were changing to Orly airport too, so did we want to share a cab with her and her partner.

Well, I'd obviously forgotten this minor detail, but it seemed to make sense. As the airplane taxied on the runway, I had a message come through to say our flight would be delayed by three hours. We already had a three hour wait, so increasing it to six was not welcome news. 

We tried our luck on getting an earlier flight out of Charles de Gaulle, but the 7.30am was fully booked. 

Off we went to Orly at a cost of €40 per pair. Ouch. 

Air France gave us a five-euro voucher each for breakfast, as some form of apology, so we headed to Paul for some chocolatey treat and I am writing the final post whilst watching some plane activity out the window!

We are now back on home turf, so until I blog again...

Here are just a few anecdotes and observations from our short, but action-packed trip:

I discovered at the airport that my camera bag weighs more than Samuel's suitcase                                                   

We heard an announcement we had never heard before: Skytree Tokyo, reassuring visitors that they are prepared for an earthquake.

The Japanese are even more apologetic than the Brits

I could get used to heated toilet seats

Face masks are all the rage (we kinda knew that already)

There was something very special about Hiroshima

Ambulance drivers have mega-phones with which they make announcements alongside regular sirens. I have no idea what they are saying, so decided to make up my own words, like 'get out the way you little buggers or you'll be joining us for a joyride'. Oh! the benefits of a misspent youth.

Nodding of the head - why bother with words?

There is a lot less aggression on the public transport system than in London which was a welcome change.  

Our biggest observation was an over-riding veil of quietness. Regardless of Tokyo being massively built up and with a population of around thirteen and a half million people, the average Japanese person walks quietly, talks quietly, and keeps themselves to themselves. The only overtly noisy, and acceptable practice is slurping on noodles!

Wet and Wild

Wet and Wild

Hakone, Japan

The annoying shot

Little ole me

Little ole me

The final hurdle

The final hurdle

Home

Home

Coming to a close

 

5th April

Another late start. We almost left our luggage in the hotel for storage, before realising it would only add more time to our journey later- sometimes there is just too much information to process: where we are going, where we even are!

We headed to the JR SCMAGLEV & Railway Park. Back in the UK when I was planning this trip, I managed to get Samuel to help with itinerary one evening, and told him about a train museum I had read about - this would entail us staying in Nagoya strictly for that purpose, but knowing his interest in trains and my plan to do the same for a museum I wanted to visit, it seemed only fair. 

Anyhow, I asked him in passing to check the opening hours in the guidebook (over the years I have been caught out in many countries with museum opening times).

He said 'it's closed on Tuesdays', so I checked my diary, and sure enough we were due to be there on a Tuesday. Damn! 

Sam suggested we looked at the museum website, so we did.

It revealed that during school holidays and following a public holiday the museum would be open. According to our sources there was a school holiday, and their calendar indicated it would be open on Tuesday 5th April. We are currently on a train heading for the museum, so I sincerely hope the information was correct!

Hurrah! Locomotive-love affirmed; an amazingly informative museum with lots of trains to see and explore!

Now back to Nagoya for a three hour train journey to the last 'N' stop of Nagano.  We picked up some food from the station and felt like one of the locals, tucking into our Bento boxes on the train. 

We swiftly located our guesthouse(50/50 ratio on that so far) and swapped our shoes for fleecy slippers - not sure Samuel has embraced back-packing yet, as he commented 'it's a bit run down'. I have obviously been treating him too well!

We wound down, and had our first (relatively) early night in ages!

6th April

It was an early start and a fast scoot to the train station.

Last night I was doing my planning for today and discovered we'd be having a four hour train journey south later, which meant a re-jigging of plans to fit everything in. 

Right now we're off to Obuse on the 'snow monkey' train. The announcement 'snow monkey' sounds particularly cool with a Japanese accent - reminds me of 'Monkey' which was a Japanese (taken from a Chinese story) TV programme that my brother and I used to love watching as kids.

We were pointed in the direction of a cafe and were greeted by an older lady with the famous line 'I don't speak English'. Makes me smile every time. She was flanked by a younger woman, and both were very genial. We were the only people there and the menu offered three choices: vegetable curry set, quiche and toast set or toast set. I thought I had ordered just the toast, but along came a mini quiche - without the pastry! A very tasty little egg concoction with two doorstep slices of white bread (very popular in Japan) and a little side bowl of yoghurt with a pear compote. It was very good indeed. 

Now on to the main event...over the past five or ten years I have become quite a fan of Japanese art - especially fond of wood block prints. I am no expert, but the undisputed master (or most famous?) artisan is Katsushika Hokusai, so when I saw there was a museum dedicated to this man in a place called Obuse, I knew I had to make the pilgrimage. 

Hokusai started his practice, as with most arts in Japan by being an apprentice to another master. He specialised in Wood block prints for much of his career, but broadened his practice to include brush painting, amongst other things over time. He was a man dedicated to his art and practiced day and night until his death at the age of ninety, spending the last thirty years of his life in Obuse. 

This was a quaint little town, and famous for chestnuts. We were informed from a lovely lady however, not to buy any at the is time of year as they are imported from China, and she feels tourists are unduly led to believe they are local chestnuts. We still sampled a 'chestnut icecream' which was decent, wherever they came from! Whooshing through towns on the Shinkansen we got to see some agricultural land at last, and a tractor which always makes me feel at home!

Lunch (and dinner) was a sandwich made with a brown, spongey bread consisting of egg, tuna, edamame beans, broccoli and a light mayonnaise. The kind of thing I would never throw together at home, but it tasted real good! 

We shared a small tube of Chip Star - the Japanese equivalent  of Pringles, and a bottle of Blood-orange Orangina. I am hoping they have this in the UK as it's my new favourite drink! 

We had to make three changes on today's train journey, the last one taking us up, up and away into the Mount Fuji region. It was coming towards dusk and we were hoping to catch a glimpse of the mountain, but it didn't happen. Maybe tomorrow...

We awaited a bus that served as a drop off for various mountain hotels. Once dropped off, we followed the convoluted route through an adjacent hotel lobby, up to the eighth floor, outside and up a very steep slope to the entrance!

We listened intently to the concierge who explained how things worked here - this Ryokan offers Onsen which I have been looking forward to experiencing.

Onsen is a traditional hot-bath, synonomous with Japanese culture, but maybe not so well known as a Turkish Hammam. The water in an Onsen is drawn from natural hot springs and often contains a mixture of different minerals, which are reported to aide various conditions.

This is a naked experience, to which Samuel didn't feel the urge to participate. I left him in the lobby where he could connect with the ether, as there was no way I was missing this opportunity. 

I almost had a Fawlty towers moment as it took me three attempts to get started - wrong location, wrong towel etc...

Dropping my gown, along with my inhibitions I entered the fray. 

The ritual starts in a shower room, where you sit on a low stool, making sure you are washed & rinsed thoroughly, whereupon you step outside, literally, and have a choice of various bubbling pools: be it jacuzzi style or a hot pool. There was also a steam room and extremely cold plunge-pool. As the sand-timer syphoned it's grain and the sound of bubbling echoed all around, I thoroughly embraced the moment. Bliss!

I returned about an hour later to find the boy exactly where I had left him. Even the fact I am re-writing this as I lost the first draft is not disturbing me!

This will be my last post from Japan. All being well I'll round up when we are firmly back on home soil.

Thanks for reading!

Amanda xx

What kind of nose do you have?

What kind of nose do you have?

Just pretty

Just pretty

At a crossroad

At a crossroad

Admiring the Master

Admiring the Master

Chestnut icecream

Chestnut icecream

Off to the Onsen

Off to the Onsen

N is for nomad

3rd April 2016

There is a four day stint of us staying in places beginning with the letter N. Last night was Namba, tonight Nara, then Nagoya followed by Narita. If this was a card game I'd be winning hands down.

Due to another late night we had a slower than planned start to the day. Gladly, it only took ten minutes to get to the station this time around. We had around half an hour to spare until making a connection, so pulled in to 'Italian Tomato cafe' for a bite to eat. I don't know if it's by sheer volume of people, but there always seem to be people eating and drinking any time of day. 

In contrast to Europe, it is okay to smoke in restaurants and cafes (many of which have a designated area, or even room). You are however, generally not allowed to smoke on the streets.

Around eighty percent of the cafe's clientele were smokers, and there was mellow jazz music playing in the background which may well have been the best music I have heard all trip. I have to say that I have been sorely disappointed with any music I have heard so far in Japan. I'm aware there is a massive Beatles fan-base here, and that some decent bands play here regularly, but apart from John Denver's 'Take me home country roads' resonating from a Karaoke bar one night all I have heard is cheesy jingles played at train stations and via random adverts out on the street.

I am not sure if it's in the pop charts here, but I have heard a saccharin version of Doh Ray Me (is there another kind) a few times now, playing in shops. I listen to music a lot back home, and this is troubling my punk/indie/Rock/house deprived ears!

I did muse to Samuel that maybe we are a bit too cynical back home, and how I like music with a bit of bite. Maybe we should roll back the sweetness, and allow for a bit more cheese. You decide! 

En route to Kyoto we jenned up a little on the city, and chose a few places to attempt to see in the roughly six hours we had. We are now on a 'one-place, one-night agenda' as Samuel likes to call it. 

This wasn't all intentional, but with difficulty finding accomodation, and the not-knowing if and when we might come back to Japan I figured we should try and get as much ground covered, whilst getting a feel for the country. Lugging twelve kilos of camera kit around most days might not be the wisest idea, but there are worse things to be doing!

Kyoto train station is a destination in it's own right: fifteen floors of steel & glass, with tens of escalators carrying locals & inquisitive visitors to various locations around the station. A sound-system boomed music and voice from somewhere in this cavernous hub. 

Our first task was to locate the lockers, so we could leave our cases and lighten our load. We found a room containing more than 300 lockers of various sizes. We were not alone in our quest, and so started a game of cat and mouse.  There were a few groups and individuals who were seeking somewhere to store their baggage, and awaited other people to come and claim theirs, freeing up the space. Soon, a group of girls were swapping baggage for a free hand, and the same with an older gentleman. We needed the biggest sized locker, and weren't striking lucky, so I went to investigate the baggage storage that I had noted a sign for before. I left Samuel with 700 yen and wished him good fortune. When I got to the baggage room there wa a sign saying it was full, so they were suspending the service for a while. The thought of dragging around our suitcases for the day was not working for me, so I headed back to Samuel with no change on the situation.

Just then, two men approached the locker room, and proceeded to empty a large locker. They gave us a knowing smile and we eagerly stuffed our cases in and went to explore the station in more detail!

Ascending several floors, Samuel and I took the skywalk from one side of the building to the other: there are two viewing platforms offering a panoramic vision of the city. Impressive stuff. On the 11th floor there is a tight collection of eateries - all with queues of people eager to chow down!

As we climbed further we could see a wide row of around eighty steps that served as seating for the stage below: this is where the noise was coming from, and as we glanced over our shoulders we could see a group of five dancers performing a fusion of traditional and street dance.

There was a flow of performers ranging in style, and we chose to sit down just as it went a bit crazy!

Around twenty teenage girls appeared, wearing kimonos, then the same number of guys in traditional dress. This was followed by younger children, to the point there must have been a good fifty in total. They proceeded to perform a collection of somewhat comical dances, and encouraged audience participation. Around ten western tourists joined in, but it seemed nobody really had a clue what was going on, including us. It can best be described as something akin to heads, shoulders, knees and toes!  

Leaving the station, apart from going on a wild goose chase to find a revered shrine, we spent most of the remaining time in Kyoto at Nishiki Market, a wonder-world of strange and intriguing food. I bought some broadbean biscuits, but the skewered octopus didn't tempt me. There is so much food in Japan that I have no clue about. I am sure they could do a good version of the Bush Tucker Trial in most restaurants! One thing that has been a sad surprise is the lack of fruit readily available. We are probably so used to all the imports, that maybe they work on the seasonal-fruit model. I shall have to investigate.

On to Nara...

4th April

I left a sleepy-boy dreaming whilst I rearranged the bags and went to the lobby to finish some postcards and drink a freshly ground coffee; the first in some time. We left our baggage at Ugaya guesthouse, and set off to explore the area.

Nara was Japan's first capital, established in 710. Thirty years later construction started on Todei-Ji Temple and it's adjacent buildings by order of Emperor Shomu.

We decided to follow a route mapped out by lonely planet and spent a lovely afternoon walking through ancient gardens, quiet roads and through swarms of crowds at Todai-Ji which holds an almost fifteen metre tall, 500 tonne image of the Great Buddha.

The Daibutsu-den Hall which holds the Buddha has been rebuilt three times due to fire and earthquakes. Now standing at 48 metres tall, a third smaller than it's original size, it is still the largest wooden structure on earth.  Scale is everything! 

Nara-koen park is populated by deer, once considered messengers of the gods. They are completely at home amongst the crowds and sniff around for food, leaving some tourists aghast at their behaviour! 

As we walked from shrine to shrine we witnessed a devotee coming out to chant his prayers. Further on there was a whole load of wooden hearts hanging across beams and within a little shrine. This is where young women have written their hopes & dreams of finding a suitor. Probably just as effective as Tinder and the like, not that I'd know! 

We strolled back to town and found a restaurant for dinner, where I had quite a feast and finally got around to sampling the Sake - I could take it or leave it. 

We collected the bags and headed for Nagoya to our first and only hotel, which is where I am writing this from now. It is coming up to 2am and the boy is sound asleep. 

Tomorrow we are set to go to a huge railway museum, which I will explain about more in our next posting.

Until then,

A & S

 

Heads, shoulders, knees and toes

Heads, shoulders, knees and toes

It's a sign

It's a sign

ElectriciTree!

ElectriciTree!

Ugaya Guest House - stay if you are ever in Nara

Ugaya Guest House - stay if you are ever in Nara

For real!

For real!

Light up your life

Light up your life

You looking at me

You looking at me

Fit for a Queen...glad to report the slab of Tofu that looked like chamois leather was really good!

Fit for a Queen...glad to report the slab of Tofu that looked like chamois leather was really good!

Todei-Ji

Todei-Ji

Peace and Bedlam

 

1st April 2016

We bid farewell to Tokyo and exchanged our travel voucher for a weeklong Japan Rail Pass. This pass is unique to foreigners and you have to purchase your 'exchange order' before arriving in Japan. You then swap it for a pass at a JR terminal and it allows you to use a number of Japan's efficient train services, including the Shinkansen/ bullet trains! 

We waited on the platform as an army of ladies busily cleaned inside the train, and were both impressed with the fact that the seat rows turn around, so that you are always facing in the direction of travel. Once aboard, we zoomed along swapping densely packed Tokyo for low lying buildings and large factories. I was nodding off a little, and opened my eyes to see a huge snow-capped mountain rising from the damp...my first snatch of Mount Fuji!

Something shifted in the train's mechanism and before we knew it the train had come to a complete standstill. This was not on the agenda. We waited on the tracks for around ten minutes, and eaves dropped a tour-guide who was further down the carriage. It didn't seem like anything to worry about, and sure enough we were soon on our way. 

We arrived in Hiroshima, after spending most of the day in transit - by foot, train, and tram. This time our map worked and we found the Ikawa Ryokan no problem. It was a traditional Japanese room with Tatami mats and futons. A good place to take five and have a little refuel. 

Samuel watched some YouTube videos in the bathroom, as is his habit, and I did fifty sit-ups and a couple of planks. I am missing my excercise!

The light was fading, so it was time to hit the streets and get our bearings before nightfall.

We were a short walk to Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park, where a certain calm seemed to emanate. The park is situated between two rivers and spans in various directions, with many memorials offering clear explanations. The park has been expertly landscaped, and has a straight line running from the Atomic Bomb Dome (one of very few buildings left standing near the epicentre) to the Cenotaph. This sweeping concrete monument contains the names of all the known victims of the bomb. The memorial that resonated with me the most was the Flame Of Peace; set to burn continuously until all the world's nuclear weapons are destroyed. 

Hiroshima, and if the information given is to be believed, the whole of Japan desires a world without Nuclear weapons, and more broadly without war. It makes you wonder, after all of the accounts of pretty much anyone that has been actively involved in war over the last hundred years say that it serves no purpose, that it has to end, why we are still seeing scenes like this repeated around the world today...

We continued to look around the park, wander down by the river and stumbled into the busy shopping zone. We had decided to seek out a guidebook recommendation for dinner, and after a little to-ing and fro-ing we reached our destination 'Okonomi-Mura'. We took the lift to the third floor which is one of three levels containing 26 stalls, all offering a version of Okonomiyaki. These are savoury pancakes filled with cabbage, and a choice of meat, veg, or seafood, plus an omelette-style egg that sizzles up in seconds when it hits the hot plate. Unusually it contains noodles too: they are slung onto the hotplate straight from a vacuum pack. The chef adds a few secret ingredients from various shakers, and the whole combination is stacked and sliced into sections, before being placed on the hotplate in front of you, keeping it warm. It works amazingly well and is definitely our favourite meal so far.

We awoke on Saturday to glorious sunshine, and packed up before heading back to the Peace Park. Presumably because it was the weekend the park was busier than ever, and lots of people were already partaking in Hanami, with picnics under blossom trees that ran along the riverside.

We got ourselves some brunch in a relatively authentic tapas bar and headed for the Hiroshima Peace Memorial museum: a sobering experience.

There are lots of articles on display that were taken from the rubble or donated by family members. Many of them from children, such as a scorched tricycle and a lunchbox. When the bomb was detonated at 8.15am on 6th August 1945, hundreds of children were busy demolishing buildings for fire lanes as part of the war effort. They suffered horrific burns and subsequent painful deaths. One display showed the clothing remains of a fifteen year old boy. I looked across the museum floor at Samuel and felt grateful. 

We left the museum in a contemplative mood, and made our way back to the Ryokan to collect our bags, and make our way northwards to the Osaka prefecture.

More fun on the trains, and a more or less seamless journey to Namba station. That's right, all is well until we hit street level. 

We had our work cut-out, as the lame Google-map printout and some unclear instructions from station staff left us bewildered once more. We walked in various directions, and with aching shoulders proceeded on asking various people until about forty minutes later we found our resting place.

When I was seeking accommodation from England I got stuck on 2nd April, to the point I was willing to take our chances on finding something on arrival, but at the final hour, a friend of a friend of a friend came up with a place in Namba. I am not sure why, but I had imagined it would be a small unassuming town, but how wrong could I be? The area was buzzing. 

We headed out fairly late and attempted to make a call to my Mum as it's her birthday today. It just wasn't connecting, so we sent her some pictures from the hub instead!

We headed for the Dotonbori region which I had researched last night, and it didn't disappoint. Something akin to Camden, but on a grander scale. It was mayhem! 

We had Okonomiyaki again. It was another vending machine scenario, so you order what you want before entering the restaurant. I think we freaked out the staff a little by ordering dishes without a carnivorous bent. We are not big meat-eaters at home, and it has proved difficult to find main dishes without meat. That meant I had a bowl of rice, a bowl of spring onions, a soft-boiled egg and some gyoza. I mixed everything but the gyoza in another bowl and added some soy-typed sauce and some chilli paste. Tasted like a fine combination to me! 

We soaked up a bit more of the atmosphere and stopped off for a cheeky coffee and cake, but the last surprise of the evening was the slightly bizarre sighting of a couple of Owls and a bunny on a lead in a fairly busy walkway. The two ladies who were in charge of the animals were from an animal rescue service, and seemed genuine enough. The animals did not seem at all uncomfortable and there was lots of paperwork asking people not to make loud noises or use flash photography. All the same it was a very unusual scene to witness.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend people

Sayonara 

xx

 

Fasten your seatbelts!

Fasten your seatbelts!

Fun family photo

We had a game of 'guess which section of the wardrobe I am in'.  

 

Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park

Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park

Okonomiyaki

Okonomiyaki

Can't get enough of the Hanami, or people in facemasks!

Can't get enough of the Hanami, or people in facemasks!

Crab selfie

Crab selfie

Animal 'welfare'

Animal 'welfare'

Wise up

Wise up

Return of the native

Last time we saw Takumi was in 2011, when we were a 'host family' and he stayed in our home to get a sense of living with an English family. We weren’t really in a position to travel much at the time, so thought it would be a great experience to bring the world to us. Within a five year period we hosted thirty-seven people from fifteen different countries, and Takumi was our first Japanese guest. He was only twenty at the time, fairly quiet, and a massive Arsenal football club fan - As I recall, he had a whole suitcase full of Arsenal paraphenalia to take back home. Takumi and I have loosely kept in touch via Facebook, and it was great to have him show us around Tokyo for a couple of days. He is more of a country boy and not the biggest fan of Tokyo, so we are even more grateful for his time!

Our first day saw us visit Senso -Ji Temple: Greeted first by the massive red 'Thunder Gate' there was then a long walkway of stalls selling anything from chopsticks to kimonos. It was heaving. 

Once we had navigated our way through the crowds the majestic site of the temple presented itself. There was a smoking-stone-incense-bowl where according to legend, if you want yourself in the smoke your dreams will come true. I got the feeling there were many ways one could enhance their fortunes, if they were so inclined!

We left via the back road which was far more bearable, and headed to the world's tallest free-standing tower: the Tokyo Skytree. It was so busy we had to grab a voucher that would enable us to return in three hours to purchase a ticket! No problem, it was lunchtime! 

The wait was well worth it, and we spent some time looking down from 350 metres above the city. Even the most buzzing city can look peaceful from above.  

Today, March 31st was one of those very special days, that even at 2.30am my mind is still buzzing with thoughts and memories that I am sure will last a lifetime.

We met Takumi at 10am and headed for Rikugien Gardens in Komegome, and were surprised by the orderly queue that had formed around an outside wall...

Before leaving London I conceived an idea for a photographic feature and got a load of model release forms together. Takumi thought this place may offer the right kind of setting, as the series is based around the art of cherry blossom viewing, so a full bloom was hoped for. Ueno Park has a lot of trees, but attracts thousands of tourists a day and the trees are obscured by some ugly fencing. 
Rikugien was a gem of a park, full of well-dressed Japanese pensioners and a huge and amazing cherry blossom tree. Of course it was surrounded by people and park-guides keeping the path clear. Executing my idea was looking tricky, as we prepared to leave.

As is the Japanese way, it's not always easy to gauge enthusiasm or to know if someone has had enough. I had asked a lot of Takumi by enlisting him to translate my idea to strangers and asking them to sign a model release form for me. I was very happy when he said I have another idea, and suggested an alternative location about twenty minutes away.  

We entered Yoyogi Park and walked up the main boulevard. Ahead of us I could see a canopy of light-pink fluffiness. I was optimistic. Clusters of blossom trees were divided by a busy pathway, and as far as the eye could see were groups of friends and family sitting, chatting eating and building up for a great afternoon of Hanami.

I laid out the cotton throw I had brought from home and set up my camera and tripod. Sam filmed some of the action and Takumi started the task of asking for people to be photographed, with me smiling politely by his side. We got off to a good start with a group of five young women, which was swiftly followed by three men drinking Sake and beer, that we lured away from their own spot a few blankets away! We stopped for some sustenance after managing five shots, and I think Takumi was hoping it was over! I told him I would like to double the figure (less than my original target) so he politely agreed and we got back on it! Some people said no, but I really think we got some great photos. I am afraid they will not be posted on Facebook as they are destined for the 'real world' but I will be happy to show anyone who asks when I get back home. All I will say, is we asked one guy who must have been at least seventy and with his dog if he would participate. When he sat down, he widened his legs, and adjusted his hips. He did the full side-splits and raised an arm in the air. Turns out he is a Master Yogi, so for all my yoga friends, this was inspirational! The portrait-sitter of dreams. 

As if that wasn't enough, I have learned how to say ' I am a photographer' in Japanese. It sounds a little like this 'Wa tashi wa shishenken dis'. 

Leaving the park on a high, we took a stroll around Harajuku, and ended up in Bill's for coffee and cake.  It was more like a swanky restaurant than it's English counterparts, but very enjoyable! 

It was time to bid farewell to Takumi, so we thanked him again and assured him we would stay in touch and send plenty of pictures from our two days together.

Just to wrap up the day's activities and I know I'll be having less than five hours sleep (did someone say holiday?). When Sam and I went for dinner tonight we asked directions to a restaurant from two young guys. Soon, four of their mates turned up and four out of six of them were busy on their mobiles  trying to find it. With minimal English and lots of hand gestures they said to follow them. Turned out the restaurant was closed, but these boys were now on a mission to find us somewhere to eat! They were on their phones, then apologising for taking too long, and then we were off again. We got to a shopping mall that was part of a train station, and most businesses were winding down for the day as it  was coming up to 9.30. We found the building plan with various restaurants, and they were apologising again, saying they don't yet understand, which I took to mean they weren't sure which floor it was on. Then, there was more excitement when they realised it was on the 8th floor. Amidst giggling and the boys banter with each other, we bundled into a lift, where they escorted us to the restaurant. As is my method of communication, I whipped out my phone and took a picture of the boys with Samuel, and reciprocated with one of their phones.

They told us they were from North Korea, but I think they were settled in Japan and were all Rugby players. What a joyous day. 

Goodnight. Sleep tight.

 

 

 

Takumi and Sam

Takumi and Sam

The boy and me

The boy and me

Tokyo Sky Tree

Tokyo Sky Tree

Amanda Panda says hi...made of sugar

Amanda Panda says hi...made of sugar

Blossom woos the crowds

Blossom woos the crowds

Hanami... This is how we do it!

Hanami... This is how we do it!

The North Koreans have my baby!

The North Koreans have my baby!

I've been rumbled.

I've been rumbled.

Settling in

I awoke late, the boy rousing another two hours later. That scuppered our plans a little, but we are on holiday! 

We headed back to Ueno Park where there was definitely more of a party atmosphere on this Tuesday afternoon: groups of all ages chatting and eating under the canopy of blossom trees. It's not as romantic as depicted in the old silk paintings we saw in the Museum of Tokyo, but the cherry blossom still draws the crowds.

The Museum of Tokyo is a majestic building, housing many of Japan's national treasures. We only had time to look at a small section, but luckily they cater for time-poor tourists and the main gallery is designed in such a way to give a tour of the highlights in two hours. This allowed us to see some ancient Japanese art, wood carvings, ceramics, and kimonos. Not bad at all!

We were almost last to leave, and headed to Shibuya to capture the mayhem on what is deemed to be the world's busiest pedestrian crossing: think of an upscaled version of Oxford Circus.

Next stop was Shinjuki - where we thought we were the night before! We asked around and got to the Yodabashi camera store - each floor was dedicated to some kind of photographic paraphenalia such as bags (I have never seen so many), tripods or chemicals. Across the street was the film store: a beautiful sight. Sadly they don't stock infrared film which I had hoped to pick up.

We had worked up an appetite and set our way to finding Nagi, a recommended eatery in Shinjuku. Although we've got to grips with the metro system, street level is still a challenge. There is not a lot in the way of street names and the map we were following was fine, until we got within a hundred metres of the place. We went around in circles and couldn't quite work out what kind of area we were in - think Blade Runner with less steam.

We managed to ask someone about Nagi, and low and behold it was about 15 metres from where we were standing! An unassuming doorway with a steep flight of steps going up signified we were in the right place, but we had to wait in the narrow side-alley as about seven people were inline ahead of us. Intriguing! After about twenty minutes we were told to follow a lady in kitchen attire up the steps, and were indicated to pay for our food from a vending machine! There were essentially two choices: regular Ramen and special ramen. You could then add a few extras such as boiled egg or chilli. We paid for two regular Ramen and a beer, handed in our receipts and took a high-stool at the 'bar'. Nagi is tiny and can cater for ten people in total. Every bit of space has been utilised with boxes of tissues suspended from wires and a counter, one foot deep to rest your bowls and drinks. Two people cook up a noodle storm from behind the bar and present steaming bowls of ramen within minutes. 

Turns out Nagi is situated in the Golden Gai area of Shinjuku, which is a labyrinth of teeny-tiny bars, previously home to ladies of the night. We walked past one doorway, where the clientele of three looked snug. According to Lonely Planet, the 'eccentric masters and mamas' who run them have managed to stave off development in this hub of Bohemia.

We made our way back through the booming streets and stepped on the train at Shinjuku for a somewhat convuluted ride home.

 

 

Getting in the Hanami mood - looks like we may be a week early for the fullness of the blossom viewing season.

Getting in the Hanami mood - looks like we may be a week early for the fullness of the blossom viewing season.

Outside the Tokyo National Museum

Outside the Tokyo National Museum

Ancient Dolls. Old lady

Ancient Dolls. Old lady

Into the light

Into the light

Preparing to cross: Shibuya

Preparing to cross: Shibuya

What will it be?

What will it be?

Off to a slow start

There isn't that much to enjoy about a seventeen hour flight with two change-overs, however we can thoroughly recommend Korean airlines and I did watch Spectre (at last) and Carol. I chose to eat the 'Korean option of Bibimbap. Luckily it came with an instruction manual!

We arrived at Narita airport around 8.30pm local time, and bought our tickets for the skyliner; a non-stop train from the airport into the heart of Tokyo. The train was pretty empty as we boarded from terminal 3, but soon filled up with passengers at the next terminal-stop.

We were informed by an antipodean lady that we were in her seats, so apologised and moved on. Seconds later another lady did the same, so I suggested to my son, maybe we should check if we have a seat allocation as I vaguely recalled hearing an announcement as we'd boarded that 'all seats are reserved'. As we sat in our third pair of seats, I read the seat numbers 14 C and D from out tickets and we both turned to see, that was precisely where we were sitting. It just goes to show that you always end up exactly where you should be in the end! 

The night before we left England I had called my Mum to give her some details on our upcoming itinerary. I mentioned air bnb, and got the distinct feeling she had never heard of them. Once that was confirmed, I continued to dig myself a hole by telling her that we were going to an apartment run by three men whom we had never met before, and because of our late arrival they would be unable to meet us in person. That meant we would be following directions through unknown roads, in the dark to an apartment block with an entry code and little else to go by. 

I don't possess the same 'worry gene' as my Mum, but I really do need to think about what I am saying some times! What happened next did get me nervous for a short while...

Tired and weary, we got off at Otsuka underground station, and started following the printed instructions from our hosts. We made a good start and the landmarks I had seen photos of onscreen came to life. Our next instruction was to turn right at the following corner. We did. We walked down that street, back up, back down further, tried another street and started to feel less confident. It was a quiet area of built up houses and flats, tightly squeezed together. There were however a few people passing us by here and there, so I beckoned over a Japanese couple, who couldn't speak any English and we don't speak any Japanese, apart from hello, goodbye and thank-you! Pointing at names on paper and the guy typing the address into his phone failed, so we thanked them anyway and moved on. I was sure this place existed. I said I am pretty sure it did to my son then remembered a TV programme, possibly Rogue Traders, where several couples had paid for a romantic holiday cottage in Scotland and driven all the way there, only to discover it never did. Time to bury that thought. Next, I accosted a young man who was both smoking and ending a conversation on his phone, to ask if he knew where this place was. Fortunately, he could speak some English. He has been looking at maps on his phone, when another man crossed our paths, and he asked the new guy something in Japanese, presumably about the elusive Vent Vert apartments that we were looking for. Between them they took up the gauntlet of tracking the place down! They must have spent almost half an hour with us puzzling, looking for buildings. Us dragging our luggage, and trying to get online to show them some photos, them meandering downs side roads and looking at every small block, until Eureka! It did exist. I am pretty sure the final outcome was by chance, but that is all we needed. We thanked them profusely and said good night. 

We got in the building no problem, took the lift to the sixth floor looking for room 601. Stepped out the lift to see rooms 602 - 607 and a fire escape. This was bad. Not sure how I agreed to try the fifth floor as suggested by number one son, but anyhow, that floor ran from 502-507. Great. We went back to the sixth floor as I figured we must have missed a corner or something. Nope. Finally I thought we should try the fire escape that Samuel had earlier told me not to, and there, behind the door was room 601. Try and give your kids autonomy and look where it gets you! 

It was time for some sleep...

Waking to a bright, but overcast sky we got a plan together and took to the streets in search of food. At the local station there is some kind of foodhall. The bakery looked good, and there were several savouries that caught my eye. I decided to try some ball-shaped doughy things that a guy was cooking fresh. Apologies for the description, but I have no idea what I was ordering! They had a squidgy texture and some kind of smokey cheesey centre. A bit like an inside-out fondue. There were some pink fibrous chunks inside, which I could not decide if it was bacon or smoked fish. Either way, I ate them with pleasure. Sam could not be tempted.

Next stop was back to the bakery, where one of the ladies was chattering away to everybody in a very happy, sweet voice. When we went to the counter she seemed very excited and presented me with a red box that had a star shaped foam opening. She indicated I should dip my hand in, and it reminded me of the tombola from school fetes. I retrieved a piece of paper with 300 written on it. So, it turned out that rewarded me a ten percent discount. She was even more excited now, so we smiled a lot, did some bowing of heads and went on our way. Fun times!

Our first day saw us in Ueno Park, where the blossom viewing is in full swing. I have to say, it was overcrowded, the sky was lacking life and there were still lots of buds on the trees, so I will be holding back on photographing them for myself. 

We witnessed the craziest spectacle of large fish and water birds fighting it out for air and occasional offerings of bread. It looked like the fish were biting the birds bottoms, but my son assured me it was because they were opening their mouths to breathe. Any excuse! 

We attempted to follow a short walk from the guide book, and bumped into a lady doing the exact same thing. She was not pleased and had decided that the walk did not exist. Seems like a common occurrence in Japan! Certainly not the easiest city to navigate, but it's early days. Anyway, it is fair to say that we failed to find three out of four things on that route, but we did stumble across some amazing shrines! 

Later on we visited the mega store 'Yodabashi' in Akihabara. Eight floors of electronics, computers, cameras, toys, appliances and more. The boy was in heaven. 

After a mamouth amount of walking we were tired and hungry. We were looking for a recommended restaurant, again to no avail, so settled for a basement joint serving up noodles. It was only when we sat down we realised the reason we couldn't find the other restaurant was because we were in Shibuya, not Shinjuku which is where we should have been. Tiredness is very disorientating!

Here's to sleep and successful wanderings!

Just to say, I will be uploading more images on my return as I am using my phone and iPad here.

Bibimbap instructions for the uninitiated.

Bibimbap instructions for the uninitiated.

Fishing with birds

Fishing with birds

A shrine to something

A shrine to something

Keeping warm

Keeping warm

First morning's view from our room.

First morning's view from our room.

Anticipating Japan

If you’re reading this, great. It’s a bit of an experiment really. 

My fifteen year old son and I will be boarding a plane to Japan later today. We had a big year last year, and I felt we needed an adventure. Sure, we could have opted for a two-week relaxation vacation, but maybe we’ll do that some other time. Right now I am looking at spending a busy twelve days in the East, and luckily the boy is happy to come along for the ride!

By way of an introduction, my name is Amanda and my son is called Sam. He really is a joy to be around. Of course I have to take the position of authority at times, and his love of Xbox and mine of art galleries aren’t always met with mutual admiration, but generally we muck along just fine.

I’m still somewhat horrified by how little time teenagers spend outside nowadays, especially Londoners. When I was a kid I spent a lot of time wandering, and wondering. Always the first up at the weekend, and with a brother who took the slow approach to life, I would be knocking on doors to see who was up and ready to play! It may have been the boys in the ‘council house’ or it may have been ‘Billo’ my surrogate Granddad who would sometimes give me a piece of fried bread or some home-made chips as he liked a good breakfast! 

Anyway, enough about me. Let’s get on with this adventure…

Turns out I booked our flights quite late in terms of availability and cost. How did I know there was a school holiday in Japan and it’s Sakura season, when the cherry blossom is exploding everywhere and the whole country will be in party-mode?

I had real problems securing accommodation, and liaising with hostelries etc. The nine-hour time difference was no help. After drawing a line under my efforts, I only checked exactly what I had booked six days ago. Turns out we are going to stay in seven different places - a lot of leg work then.

That headache aside, I generally love the planning stage of a trip - glancing at lines on a page, imagining what they might look like in three-dimensions with colour and sound; the anticipation of awakening the senses and ready for anything. 

You know the way when you have something in your mind, you’ll often find links in all sorts of places? Well, it was World Poetry Day earlier this week, and I took a flick through a book of poems I had somehow acquired from my secondary school and noticed this:

 

Looking Eastward by Edward Blunden

Down our street when I was a boy I met with a

         friendly man

Who took me to the stone-cross steps and said to me, 

         See Japan.

I stared at the East he pointed: never have I seen a 

       sky so fine,

A shining height of clouds sun-bright, and loftier 

       hyaline.

And, See the Mountain, said my friend, and I traced

     the region cloud,

With intense wish to shape that peak, which made 

      him smile so proud.

I nearly saw, not that alone, but as it felt to me

Cities and domes and lakes and falls and even door-

       way and tree.

But just the final face of the thing came not; and I

       told him so,

I only knew that man was right and that I was 

       stupid and slow.

He smiled, and said I should find all out, and the

       words he left me were these:

I come from my shop to see Japan, and the Moun-

        tain, when I please. 

 

My last gift before we fly away, and hopefully get to keep you updated, is The Wanderer by Johnny Cash and U2. It speaks to me!

 

Extra reading… I stumbled across this blog https://dontforgetthesongs365.wordpress.com/2013/03/16/johnny-cash-u2-the-wanderer/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another year over

This year I set myself two resolutions: one to run a half marathon, and one to master my unicycle to some degree. My Unicycle waits patiently in the corner of a room, but I have exceeded my Marathon goal by miles, so I feel fine about that situation. I will not be setting any resolutions for 2016, other than to live each moment and to be true to myself. 

I had my busiest year since the recession, so I hope that is a trend that continues! It seems the photographic industry is settling into itself again, following the digital explosion. As amazing and addictive as the smartphone is, there is sometimes a need to bring in the pro’s!

I had lots of meetings with Picture Editors this year, and met and photographed some great people. One of my favourite jobs was for Metropolitan Housing; a housing association that as well as providing homes, they supply care and support services. I was commissioned to take pictures of three people to represent some of their services: Someone with mental health problems, a person with learning disabilities and an old person. It was an absolute privilege to meet Manelle, an eighty-seven year old gem.

She regaled my client and me with stories of her Convent school upbringing in Ceylon. Manelle also told us of how much she loved singing and serenaded us with several tuneful songs. She said it all with ‘music does something to my very soul’. If I live to 87 I hope I am still this enthusiastic about life. 

We weren't allowed to leave without stuffing a couple of Werther's originals into our pockets!

Manelle for Metropolitan Housing

Manelle for Metropolitan Housing

Jeff for Metropolitan Housing

Jeff for Metropolitan Housing

I've garnered some recognition this year, winning a couple of prizes: both were created using traditional film and processing techniques.

Lauderdale House Annual Photographic Competition: 2nd Prize

Lauderdale House Annual Photographic Competition: 2nd Prize

As is often the case I entered the prestigious Taylor Wessing Portrait Prize. Needless to say, they are not ready for me yet! My rejected image did have a moment in the Portrait Salon ' salon de refuses' at the Embassy Tea Gallery. This image has been featured here before and forms part of my long-term project Downtime. 

Andrew Newell: Teaching Assistant

Andrew Newell: Teaching Assistant

The project is still in development, and I have spent quite some time recently, analysing where it is at. This year I have managed to add sixteen new images to the project, bringing the total to thirty. I had thought once I hit thirty images I could start putting together a book. Alas, I feel the words are now just as important as the images, so I will be writing for the next month or so, from where I can hopefully get a handle on what to do next! But as a friend of mine said “it may become your life's work”.

The Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize can be seen at the National Portrait Gallery until 21st February 2016. http://www.npg.org.uk/whatson/twppp-2015/exhibition.php

This year has been a big year for me personally and I have been reflecting on all areas of my life. Photography has been a large part of my world for so long, but I recognise my passion lies in the whole creative process which can be applied anywhere: coming up with ideas, sometimes forming collaborations, and seeing projects through to fruition.

With that in mind I have decided to take my foot off the pedal in some areas of photography, so I can concentrate on various personal projects.

You may have noticed that I like to keep active, and one way I do that is by practicing ‘Boxing Yoga’. A concept dreamed up by Matt Garcia, and executed with the help of Kajza Ekberg. I found out about this on a chance meeting with Matt and asking him ‘what the hell is Boxing Yoga’?!

Well, that was a couple of years ago, and I love it! So much so , that come February I will be embarking on a training course that should make me an official Boxing Yoga teacher, so get ready for some Downward Dog action!

The Highlights

Last year I listed various favourites, but I am having trouble singling anything out this time around, so here’s a collection of things that I enjoyed in 2015:

Films

The Theory of Everything: the story of Stephen Hawkins as Scientist and Husband.

Just yesterday I took my son to see Star Wars: the Force Awakens. I think I could have got away with being a teenage boy myself from my level of excitement. It was amazing!

I somehow haven’t watched Spectre yet, so if anyone wants to join me for a viewing let me know!

Books

A life without limits by multiple Ironman world champion Chrissie Wellington. It may not be the best written book ever, but is very honest and truly inspirational.

Ziggyology by Simon Goddard: an intelligently written, way-more-info-than-you-bargained- for- book, primarily about the rise and fall of David Bowie’s creation, Ziggy Stardust, but you will pick up facts on things as diverse as Holst to Kubrick, which if you have a better memory than me could serve you well in a pub quiz!

Exhibitions 

Egon Schiele: The Radical Nude at The Courthauld Gallery

The Art of the Brick at The Truman Gallery. Showcasing Nathan Sawaya’s amazing Lego Sculptures.

Gathered Leaves/Photographs by Alec Soth. I have only recently become aware of Alec’s work, but I spent an enjoyable couple of hours at The Science Museum’s Media Space viewing various projects of his. All insightful documentaries of people’s lives.

This is running until 28th March 2016.

Shoes: Pleasure and Pain showing at the V & A Museum until 31st January 2016. I suggested going here with a shoe-loving friend of mine. It was thoroughly entertaining, giving a holistic view of footwear, and leaving me thinking maybe one day I will own a pair of Christian Louboutin’s!

Best Day Out

Angel of the North

I have two, and both were spent with my Son. We lucked-out in August on a sunny day in Newcastle (whilst it was raining in London). We did a fast sweep of the city, managed to see the Gateshead Millennium Bridge raise and took a trip to see The Angel of the North in all her glory.

I took the boy to his first festival: V Fest in Chelmsford. Of course it poured down not long after our arrival, but the sun shone for George Ezra. It was great to see Ella Ayre and her lovely keyboardist Josh Carruthers who secured me my tickets!

Favourite View

I do have a favourite here, and that was seeing my family about 100 metres from the Marathon finish line. I cannot show you my view, but you can see my reaction!

Marathon run for Stroke Association

Merry Christmas and may the force be strong through 2016!

Amanda xx

 

 

 

 

November News!

Maybe it’s this mild autumn weather, or perhaps my mind is engaged in other things, but without picking up my diary I figure it can only be around six weeks until Christmas Day. I don’t feel at all ready to even consider that. I do however work a day or two with ladies that love the festive season, so I am sure it’ll become apparent soon enough. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could give the gift of peace this year. I might put that on my Christmas list. 

Anyhow, I thought I should check in with a reminder that I am a photographer, and just lately the bag has been extremely mixed...

An old colleague of mine and extreme entrepreneur called me in to take pictures of some dessert restaurants that he owns. I had no idea…in the past I have photographed golfing events, weddings, cricketers and an overview of Croydon’s highlights for his property development company.

It was a wet day when I headed first to Tooting, then Croydon west. Not the most conducive to ice-cream, but I witnessed some Sundae mastery and even gave myself a cameo role as a happy customer!

triple scoop icecream
Old Skool selfie!

Old Skool selfie!

For around the past eight years I have been called upon to photograph the Mayors of Islington and Camden laying wreaths in a remembrance service. We have encountered all weathers in that time; this year it started to rain exactly as we stepped outside the chapel! As it’s a sombre occasion it isn’t the kind of job here I can ask people to pose or smile, but I did manage to spot what I thought was an arresting sight and also took a few extras for an upcoming website. 

If you have never been to Islington & Camden Cemetery it is worth a visit.

This is the resting place of a guy who jumped into Highgate Ponds to save a Dog in 1896, and lost his own life.

This is the resting place of a guy who jumped into Highgate Ponds to save a Dog in 1896, and lost his own life.

I have just started a mini-series of images, portraying people over the age of sixty who are still living life to the full! 

Helen and "it's not a shed" Margaux.

Helen and "it's not a shed" Margaux.

DATES FOR THE DIARY

Islington Arts Society Autumn exhibition ends this Saturday. It is being held at Hornsey Library in Crouch End. I won the photography prize which was a nice bonus. We even made it into the local rag! Open Wednesday to Friday 1pm-7pm and Saturday 1 - 5pm.

Solar Sail

Solar Sail

Portrait Salon

Portrait Salon began in 2011 as a response to the Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize. The NPG Taylor Wessing Portrait Prize is one of the most prestigious photography prizes in the world, attracting entrants from professionals and amateurs alike. To celebrate five years they will be exhibiting one print from every photographer that submitted to and was rejected by the Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize. That includes me!

The print exhibition will open at 6.30pm this Thursday, 19th November at The Embassy Tea Gallery in London and will be accompanied by a new publication that will look back at the past 4 years of Portrait Salon. The exhibition will close on 22nd November 2015.

In case you can't make the exhibition!

In case you can't make the exhibition!

Remember to fill those stockings! Until then xx

What a journey!

 

As people say, life is a journey, and I like to think that within that journey there are many roads to be explored. This year I have encountered several, and one that has brought great joy and now, satisfaction was a sixteen week training plan culminating in my first ever marathon run.

I have been running regularly for around seven years, but running a marathon wasn’t on my agenda. I had quite naturally improved by repetition, and every now and again would push myself to a five mile run and once even a 10K! None of these felt like hard work, and with a notion that I could run a half-marathon if I wanted to, I thought I should put my money where my mouth is, so looked to seek one out. Nothing was coming up in the Autumn for my preferred locations. Then I stumbled across information on the all-new Bristol to Bath marathon. Recalling what a personal trainer had once said to me "if you do a half marathon you’ll want to do a full one” I figured I may as well go for it. Little did I know that within training I would complete eight runs that were half a marathon’s length or longer!

In fact, I probably didn’t think much about how all-consuming the training would be. I followed the Virgin intermediate 17 week training plan, starting at week two, so sixteen weeks for me. It turns out that in that time I have run around 390 miles.

I stuck pretty close to the plan, just missing a few sessions here and there, and adjusting the plan if work got in the way. Alongside the running I did a session or two at Total Boxer each week, where I am a member. Practicing both boxing skills and yoga was a good way to balance & strengthen myself in every way!

Through the training plan, I learned there were ways to vary the runs too, such as Fartlek and Threshold running; things I had never heard of before. Interval running is a combination of very fast running followed by slow running in short spurts. I did not take to this kindly.

I don’t own a Fitbit, and I never listen to music whilst running, but I have been using an APP called Runkeeper for the past few years. When I was getting prepared for the marathon I downloaded a couple of very popular running-app’s that everyone seemed to be using. One of them predicted it would take me 4 hours, 34 minutes and 59 seconds to complete a marathon. I decided they could stick their predictions where the sun doesn’t shine, and promptly removed the apps. You’ll have to wait and see if my confidence was justified!

Somewhere within training I picked up a niggly knee, and resorted to wearing a support for several weeks, but thankfully it righted itself. Even though I’d been running regularly for a long time, within a few weeks of training one of my little toenails got damaged, and has been black ever since - nice! I was getting further toe damage on my right foot with my middle toe suffering the most. I thought I should get them checked out by an expert, and the podiatrist informed me I had Roman foot! Apparently I must have roman ancestors as my middle toes are longer than my big toe which is why I am suffering from extra pressure as the toes squash into each other whilst on the move. The things I’ve learned along the way! She gave me some interesting little squidgy 'toe socks' for my middle toes: elasticated bandage-like things with cool silicone gel inside. They fit over he toes and alleviate the pressure caused by the other toes whilst running. They have really helped, but despite having no pain I do have three bruised toes following the marathon. I don’t think running is for the vain!

On the whole, training went well for me, and the 'easier week' happened to coincide with my birthday week - this meant less running and more indulging on the finer things in life! The week that followed was my worst: I had swapped the days to accommodate my long-run, which at fourteen was the longest I had ever done. Looking back in my diary I see that this was the fifth day on the trot I had been running, and the day before I did a four mile run, went on a bike ride and took a hardcore Yoga class - no wonder it was tough!

That 14- mile run indicated a problem I was going to encounter time and again when I ran long distances, and I’m afraid you get to share it! Turns out that if I run further than 11 miles or so my bowels start to complain. I would insert an exclamation mark here, but it’s really not funny. It is so off-putting, and takes your concentration away from where you need it. 

A friend suggested I take rehydration (salt) tablets before a long-run, which I did with varying degrees of success. They are pretty gross, and only help to a certain mileage. During the marathon I had to use the facilities twice, and wasted five minutes queuing for the loo, so if anyone has any ideas on improving this problem I would love to hear them! 

Did I mention I moved home at around the ten-week mark. It seems I juggled my days around, and I can now see that I ran forty-two miles that week: good job I wasn’t scrutinising my training plan at the time!

As I hadn’t participated in an organised race since my schooldays, I figured I should find a half-marathon to test the waters. I signed up for the Wimbledon half marathon, and on a glorious Sunday morning I headed south. I hopped on a bus at Putney Bridge and crossed the Thames to see early morning rowers on the river. The bus slowly filled with runners and it felt good. Around three hundred and fifty people took part.

It turned out to be more of a trail-run, and I almost lost my footing on a tree root: that could have changed things somewhat. On the whole, running remains primarily a solitary pursuit for me, but I do think that it was a better experience for long-distance running, having others to inspire, track and pace.

Again, my stomach turned at around eleven miles and I had to make an emergency stop, but it was a great run, and quite an overwhelming ending…with maybe a half mile to go there was a woman running near me who sounded like she was hyperventilating…anticipation of the end was palpable and I felt a mild anxiety rising within. Luckily, I managed to abate that and strode to glory, happily awaiting my entourage: Son, best friend and her daughter. In I came, looking for a familiar face, but no, they weren’t there! I spluttered a few expletives and promptly grabbed my complimentary flapjack and a medal sporting a Womble. Give yourself a pat on the back.

I came in at 1 hour and 57 mins, which put me 2nd out of 28 females in my age category. Not bad at all!

Me and my Womble - Wimbledon Half

Me and my Womble - Wimbledon Half

As marathon day drew nearer and the distances tethered down, I played homage to some of my favourite running spots. If you are unfamiliar with London, I would like to assure you that London is a far greener city than most people give it credit for. I have two favourite parks in Tottenham: Downhills Park and Lordship Rec, and just south of them, Finsbury Park and Clissold Park. I did a good amount of my training in these parks, and love them all!

An old work colleague of mine is a veteran runner, and became my unofficial coach by messenger! He lives in France, but knows London well and sent me some routes. One of which sounded ideal, and despite running it three times, varying the distance it was flawed every time! I am not an experienced enough runner, but was told to take it easy on the outbound journey as it is uphill (not obvious hills). Anyway, the first time I did it I got completely lost in a maze of residential streets, and did not keep my cool. 

The second and third times my phone died, which meant I wasn’t 100% sure I had covered my distances. As well, on the third run my stomach was super unhappy, but luckily there is a public toilet there which I believe I visited three times!

To balance things out Rick also gave me my favourite route and a lot of reassurance and advice, so thanks Rick! That favourite route incorporated large parts of London, including St.James, Green, Hyde and Regents Parks. I saw the Shard, Buckingham Palace and Big Ben. Healthier than a bus tour any day!

River Crossing - worth 30 seconds!

River Crossing - worth 30 seconds!

I feel like I should mention food here, but apart from eating more and more as my training intensified I didn’t change anything in my diet - apart from eating more biscuits than normal! I did start making notes of what I ate before a long run and found that scrambled egg on toast, one coffee and an orange juice set me off nicely. I wouldn’t consume anything before 90 minutes of running, and then chose a 'Nakd' cashew bar to keep me going.

It was funny after a long run, I would immediately eat a sandwich or something, have a bath and promptly start preparing a full meal. Food was, and to be fair is never too far from my thoughts!

An antagonistic friend of mine recently asked me what I am running from. I associate running with going somewhere, not running from. When I was a child and into my twenties I used a bicycle as an expression of movement: the speed, the feeling of air rushing past my face. I’ve always liked the sense of ‘going’. Now is not the time to psycho-analyse myself, and maybe I am running from something, but I must enjoy being some kind of fugitive, because it feels damn good!

With three weeks to go I knew I was race - fit as I completed 68 mins of mixed training with a smile. This involved a couple of ten-minute threshold runs: these were explained somewhere as ‘comfortably hard’ and that works for me. Even the interval runs 3x (4min interval 2min easy) went well - this is the type I thought could kill me when I first attempted them. Sprint running was never my forte. 

All I had to do now was stay well and injury-free for three weeks!

By chance it turned out that a good friend of mine was going to be running the same marathon - his first too. Him and his wife live a lot closer to Bristol than I do, and kindly offered to put me up for the night before race- day. We ate a hearty Lasagne with some London-baked bread. As the night progressed we got less chatty and the anticipation started to kick-in. Matt pinned his race number onto his shirt and I laid out all my bits!

 

Well-wishes started coming in the night before the race and continued throughout the morning. I was staying in the depths of Somerset where mobile reception is sporadic, which resulted in me being woken a couple of times by my phone buzzing as the airwaves came to life. I read a message from my brother in a sleepy-haze which simply said ‘Jog-on’! We share a harsh sense of humour.

Race Day!

I ate less than I usually do before a long-run, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. 

Tracey drove us into Bristol. With a mix of excited chatter and quiet reflection, you could feel the tension in the air. The elusive date of 25th October 2015 was finally upon us, and in less than five hours we were hoping to be calling ourselves marathon runners. Eek.

We joined the throng of people gathered in Queen Square, and soaked up the pre-race atmosphere. Heading to the start line Matt & I agreed that we would start together, but had no intention of trying to stick together throughout - I am not sure we even managed the first mile side by side! 

The first eight miles or so were very pleasant - heading out and under the Clifton Suspension Bridge, a Bristol icon. Along that stretch the sun glistened on trees of yellow and a climber could be seen above us on the rock-face. One of my highlights was a booming set of drummers on the roadside: their bangs resonating off the rocks kept spirits high. The route turned back on itself here, so we got to see the front-runners and clapped them by…it was quite reassuring once I’d turned myself, and could see I was ahead of hundreds of people. So far, so good!

The more you run, the more you learn to gauge your distances and times, and can adapt to the race at hand. With this one I didn’t really think about the distance until 11 miles or so, whereas during the half-marathon I would have been counting down miles 12 and 13 with a mild anxiety!

I took my first toilet break just before the half way mark, and I was surprised to still be in Bristol. I couldn’t really tell you where we ran, but we flowed through many a village, and the crowd-support was just amazing. As the miles notched up, so did the number of people lining the streets and geeing us along. You can’t take it all in or appreciate as many spectators as you’d like, but here are a few recollections:

  • For quite some time I must have been running amidst two men called Tom and Rob. I figured they were local heroes or something, as so many people were wishing them well. The penny finally dropped and I realised that they had their names printed on their shirts! I got a few of my own “go on Stroke Association”!

  • When walking up a very steep hill in one of the villages, a man shouted to me ‘there’s a bottle of white wine around the corner’ in a thick west-country accent. Priceless!

  • Who knew Jelly babies were an integral part of marathon running? People stood outside their gardens, and on street corners with offerings of these sugar-fuelled infants

  • A gaggle of boffin-type looking people were cheering on the runners, one holding a piece of cardboard with a raised rectangle of tin-foil. It read ‘touch here for extra power’. I had no choice!

  • Kids with their hands outstretched seemed to be everywhere; weirdly like when people want to touch a famous person at a rock show or movie premiere. It was very endearing.

  • I fist-pumped a stranger!

  • One of my biggest highlights was on approaching a water-station around 20 miles or so, and I recognised the girl handing me the water, then her Mum, brother and Dad…it was an old mate Paul and his family. As I was in motion, I turned excitedly to say hello and it put a bounce in my step. It turned out that Paul’s daughter’s Guide troop had volunteered to hand out water. It was a great effort from all the water-handlers and race officials. Sadly, I did see at least four people requiring medical attention, and hope they didn’t suffer too much.

We had been warned about the hills, especially a monster at around twenty miles, but there were many and varied. People would be cheering us on saying ‘this is the last hill’, only to be presented with another one, a mile down the road. It got a bit ridiculous in the end.

I have another problem with long-distance running and that is my tendency to stop dead. I have coined people like me ’Stoppers’ and at least on marathon day I discovered I was not alone! Sometimes it’s like I am just bored of running, others it’s some warped psychology where I tell myself ‘don’t stop, don’t stop’ and then I go ahead and stop! I never stop moving, but I stop the momentum. Madness! It’s especially annoying as my general running pace is decent, all things considered. To be fair, my left knee did start playing up around the 21 mile mark, to the point I would call it pain, so that made me stop a couple of times.

On one such slowing-down exercise I met a guy called Paul. He told me I should jog with him as he was working on the basis of run for nine minutes/walk for one. That seemed like a good strategy, but I think I made about 7 minutes before stopping again and Paul called out ‘that’s not nine minutes’. I ignored him, but that is not the end of Paul…

I hope you can sense from my words that this truly was an amazing experience, and as I continue to write this (now a week later) I am just as excited as when I crossed that line. 

With about four miles to go, my thoughts fluctuated between ‘I wonder how long it would take to walk the last four miles’ and ‘come on, you’re nearly there’. I often work out percentages when I run, so I would have been thinking ‘you’re well over 80 percent’ which is always encouraging. 

I’d say I faffed around between 22 and 24 miles, thinking about my knee, getting annoyed with hills, reassuring myself, being happy it was nearly over, knowing I was going to complete it. Miles 24-26 weren’t bad and I think I ran consistently. That last point-two of a mile however was a royal pain in the arse; short, blind roads. Corner after corner and even some small slopes that loomed like Everest. On the approach to the finish I heard a familiar voice, my marathon-mate Paul saying come on, let’s end this together. We ran together briefly, but I couldn’t keep up.

With around 100 metres to go I saw and heard my brother on the sidelines, then my son, Dad, and Mum who was holding a sign saying “Go Amanda!” After my Wimbledon experience it was great to see them there. Here's my reaction:

Happy Runner!

Happy Runner!

When I finally crossed the line, my first thought was ‘I actually did it’. It was somehow hard to comprehend. Paul was just ahead, so we high-fived and hugged. I thanked him and that was that, my marathon journey was complete. The family were well impressed!

As it was such a glorious day, we hung around a while. I got a complimentary massage from ‘my physio plan’ and we went to cheer on some of the runners filtering their way to the finish-line.

I am looking forward to reclaiming my Sundays, nearly as much as I am looking forward to putting my trainers back on, and who knows where that might lead!

Time to complete: 4hours 14 minutes 22 seconds. Job done!

So, that’s my story, and I am sure every person who ran that day has a different story to tell. I’d love to hear any tips, or anecdotes from other runners. 

p.s I heard there were two successful wedding proposals from marathon runners that day-is that a thing?

p.p.s I forgot to say that I raised over £600 for Stroke Association - thanks everyone!

Happy Runner
Matt and me

Matt and me

The Fam

The Fam

Notes from a Northern county...

Despite my joy in writing, I rarely seem to have the time, but as I am nearing the end of a little holiday, I thought I would write about that...

I had never been to the north east of England, but had long ago hankered after a trip to Newcastle and had a desire to see the 'Angel of the North' up close and personal.

Angel of the NorthSir Antony Gormley

Angel of the North

Sir Antony Gormley

Years ago when I was renting rooms in shared houses and working in a pub,  I lived with and met several people from the north east. In a sweeping-statement-kind-of-way I found them loud, friendly and quite often a bit bonkers! My recent trip has laid that to rest as the people we encountered on this trip were nothing but friendly and helpful.

As too often the case, this trip was whizzed up into a whirlwind; fitting rather a lot into a short timeframe. My travelling companion was my number one son, Sam, aged fourteen. He likes trains, and I think we could have almost ran this as a train-enthusiasts tour of Northumberland! 

All Aboard!

All Aboard!

We started our journey from Kings Cross, and headed to the lovely town of Alnwick in Northumberland. For our first night's accommodation the only room available had a giant bed, which my son spent the first ten minutes diving on from various angles...I knew we were going to have a good time.

We got busy tightening up the itinerary and had a scout around the area to get our bearings. With only two full days here, we needed a plan!

Monday morning was spent visiting Alnwick Castle, which has been home to the Percy family for over seven hundred years. Attractively set with views of the rolling landscape around, it has something for everyone, with Harry Potter events for kids and an insiders view for Downton Abbey fans as scenes for both have been filmed at the castle. My favourite part was the library, hosting 14,000 catalogued books - floor to ceiling in one of the state rooms with access to the top galleries through a hidden door!

A sudden downpour saw us head out of the castle and into the bus station to pick up a bus to Lindisfarne...well kind of. I had chosen to take the coastal route which takes about an hour an a half to reach the drop-off point. We discovered there were problems on the A1, so the bus was running a minimum of forty minutes late. Luckily there was an alternative, faster bus service which takes around forty minutes. That was also running late, and being used to a flow of London buses we were getting impatient! 

Anyhow, we got on the bus, and tentatively got off somewhere on the A1. 

Now, I can't be sure if my pre-trip research was severely off or I had misinterpreted a friend who had given me a local bus timetable( and visits Northumberland regularly...with a car), but I was under the impression we could walk from our bus stop to Holy Island without too much difficulty. Lindisfarne (Holy Island) lies several miles off the Northumberland coast. It is cut off twice-daily from the rest of the world by fast moving tides. I had at least researched the tide times, so we could cross to the Island!

Anyway it turned out that it was a five mile walk to the island, and it happened to be extremely windy. For the first mile it looked like the world was going to end, and my son was convinced he could see twisters in the sky...we kept ourselves entertained with apocalyptic stories. 

Bird? Plane? Twister?

Bird? Plane? Twister?

 

We reached the open flat of the causeway and it really is an amazing landscape...wide, sparse, and hard to believe the water rises to make it inaccessible. Despite the views, by around three and a half miles we were getting a little worn down, and mindful of the fact that we had to get back to the A1 to be sure of making it back to Alnwick that night! This is when my son suggested hitch-hiking. He told me the next day he had been joking, and so was surprised when I agreed. We stuck out our thumbs and waited. There wan't much passing traffic, and it seemed like nobody would stop, so on we marched with vague attempts at thumbing a lift here and there. I looked back to see around five cars heading our way, so suggested we gave it one more go. A lady in a four by four started slowing down and we were good to go! She was quite excited about it being "the first time I've picked someone up on the causeway". She was so kind, and after pulling up outside her holiday cottage, she walked us down a track and pointed out Lindisfarne Priory which was the heart of Christianity in Anglo Saxon times. She also pointed out St. Cuthbert's Island and gave us a potted history of St.Cuthbert himself. She also pointed out other island highlights and told us if we got stranded to just knock on her door and she'll take us back across the causeway. Her name was Georgie, from Lincoln and according to my son "one of the nicest people I have ever met".

Flatlands

Flatlands

This is where you go if you get the tide times wrong!

This is where you go if you get the tide times wrong!

 

By the time we'd been windswept at the top of St. Cuthbert's, tip-toed over the rocks and walked to the top of a hill to get a Birdseye view of Lindisfarne Priory, it seemed like most people were leaving the island. All of the shops were closed, so we headed for the car park in the vein hope of getting a bus back ( as we had discovered there was a bus serving the island). No chance; the last bus had left two hours ago, so the worst case scenario is we had to walk another five miles back to the A1, but we weren't about to panic. We set our sights on an 'older couple' entering the car park and quite simply asked if there was any chance of a lift back over the causeway.There was. As the couple dropped us off on the edge of the A1 I sensed they were a little concerned for our homeward journey, but we assured them that there was a bus stop just around the corner and now time was on our side as we only had to wait about five minutes for the scenic bus back to Alnwick. A great day!

Looking down to Lindisfarne

Looking down to Lindisfarne

 

Day two of our northern adventure saw us collecting hire bikes from an industrial estate just outside the town. Not five minutes into our journey we stopped at the Aln Valley Railway project; a wonderful place run by enthusiasts and aiming to rebuild the branch line which used to link Alnmouth Station to Alnwick. The project is currently funded through donations, a couple of organisations and the Duke of Northumberland; the 'Percy guy' from Alnwick castle.

Aln Valley Railway project

Because it is a new project it will not be eligible for Lottery funding until they hit the original track bed as it will then be classed as a heritage project. Find out more here 

www.alnvalleyrailway.co.uk

As an added bonus, there is an RAF training camp not far away, so we were serenaded by several jet engines and a C17 globe master ( of course I know my planes). 

After a quick trip on the Wickham Trolley we picked up cycle route 1 of the national cycle network and traversed all kinds of land, from rough shingle to pot-holed country lanes. We stopped at various railway crossings and hopped off to relish in the extremely quiet wonder of the North Sea's lapping tides. 

Craster

Craster

 

En route we took a little detour into Alnmouth and then headed through the undulating roads toward Craster, with the ruins of 14th century Dunstanburgh Castle in the distance. No trip to Craster would be complete without a crab sandwich, so with that covered we got back on the saddle, and took a faster route home, just in time to drop off the bikes before they closed for the night.

Despite the sore bottoms we throughly enjoyed our ride, and I have to admit I like trains too!

I would like to tell you about our day in Newcastle but that will have to wait...

Viva the North!

Angel of the North
Gateshead Angel


BHA Summit 2015

Last week I found  myself rubbing shoulders with the movers and shakers of the hospitality industry at the British Hospitality Association's Summit.

Some people might find events like this a bit on the dull side, and to be fair they are unlikely to offer an opportunity for portfolio-shots, but ever open to learning, I find listening to experts in any area quite interesting.

There were many impressive speakers including Ufi Ibrahim, the BHA chair, and Peter Gowers, Chief Executive of Travelodge UK - he spoke a lot of sense.

Some of it jarred a little, such as the 'need' for another runway, somewhere in the Capital. Hmm. Some current problems within tourism were divulged , such as how to entice more Chinese visitors to the UK. There seems to be a strategy for everything!

Bigging up the UK, and stealing the show was Mayor of London, Boris Johnson. Love him or loathe him, he draws in a crowd.

Ufi IbrahimChief Executive, British Hospitality Association

Ufi Ibrahim

Chief Executive, British Hospitality Association

Boris JohnsonMayor of London

Boris Johnson

Mayor of London

Apprentices to the industry with Thomas Dubaere, MD UK & Ireland, Accor Hotels

Apprentices to the industry with Thomas Dubaere, MD UK & Ireland, Accor Hotels

ITN Productions were there filming the event. I managed to get into the interview room, and annoy one of the camera-men for firing a couple of shots: sometimes you just have to do it!

ITN Productions were there filming the event. I managed to get into the interview room, and annoy one of the camera-men for firing a couple of shots: sometimes you just have to do it!

Two Army reservists along with Boris Johnson. Their regiment is the only catering corps in the Army reserves.

Two Army reservists along with Boris Johnson. Their regiment is the only catering corps in the Army reserves.

Lloyd Park Then and Now

If you find yourself Walthamstow way between 21st and 26th April, be sure to drop by Lloyd Park and check out this lovely exhibition in the Winns Gallery, Lloyd Park.

Last year I led some workshops for the Sharing Heritage Group where we re-enacted scenes from old photos taken around  the turn of the century. These images form just a part of the exhibition, and don't forget that the amazing William Morris Museum is also in the grounds of Lloyd Park, so you can have a creative afternoon in the heart of Walthamstow. The cafe's are good too!

Here is more info' from the group:

Discover the rich heritage of Lloyd Park through a free exhibition by the Lloyd Park Sharing Heritage Group. Enjoy the group’s interpretive artworks, animation film, photographs, poetry and more.

Lloyd Park was first opened by the Victorians on 28 July 1900. Prior to being a public park, the land was the private gardens of Water House; then a gentleman’s countryside residence. Water House (now the William Morris Gallery) was home to Willam Morris; designer, craftsman and socialist, and then the Lloyd family. The Lloyds gifted their land to the Council, with the condition that it be turned into a public park.

Members of Lloyd Park Sharing Heritage, a weekly over-50s group, have interpreted the fascinating history of the park through a variety of creative pieces. Come along to look at old park photos, maps and bottles discovered buried in the park. Plus enjoy a tree trail and Lloyd Park seed giveaways.

This free exhibition runs from 21-26 April from 10.30am-4.30pm in the Winns Gallery. The Winns Gallery can be found in the Aveling Centre in the middle of the park. Lloyd Park is off Forest Road, Walthamstow, E17. For further information, contact Ellie Mortimer: ellie.mortimer@walthamforest.gov.uk 020 8496 2822 or visit www.walthamforest.gov.uk/lloyd-park

chasing pigeons


Howard Marks

Today is St. David's Day, so I can't think of a better time to mention infamous welshman, Howard Marks. 

I only discovered this week that he has been diagnosed with terminal bowel cancer, a horrible fate to befall anyone.

I met and photographed Howard Marks a couple of years ago at the Bloomsbury Theatre where he was performing his one-man show 'An audience with Mr. Nice' in aid of the homeless charity, Crisis.
He was charismatic and charming; traits that no doubt helped him to become top of the game in drug smuggling. This, along with his strong desire to see cannibis legalised may be what he is most famous for, but he has lived a colourful life, including acquiring a Physics degree from Oxford and being father to several children. 

He is just another human being with his own life story. True, his story is more colourful than many, but at least he has been true to what he believes in. 

Another piece of trivia is that he and I share a birthday!

Anyway, I wish him luck on his final journey, and here a couple of pics...

Howard Marks on stage at the Bloomsbury Theatre 2013

Howard Marks on stage at the Bloomsbury Theatre 2013

Howard Marks

Howard Marks




Fleeting February

As February is a short month, I think I am entitled to a short post!

It's been a project-propelled month which has seen me cycling to Chigwell to cover another stage in the Vineyard process. I'd quite fancied the idea of working on a vineyard, but there is some serious labour involved, and you have to be dedicated to nurture your vines on a cold grey day in Essex!

I got a record five additions to the Downtime project under my belt. All can be seen on the projects page, but here are a couple of favourites:

I had great fun with Robbie on Brick Lane, despite the freezing conditions and the crowds! A lot of location/street photography is about patience, and it paid dividends as we got some perfectly placed passers-by. (There's a tongue-twister in there s…

I had great fun with Robbie on Brick Lane, despite the freezing conditions and the crowds! A lot of location/street photography is about patience, and it paid dividends as we got some perfectly placed passers-by. (There's a tongue-twister in there somewhere)

A very proud man with a small selection of his butterfly collection. What this guy doesn't know about butterflies & dragonflies...His collection is to be bequeathed to The Natural History museum.

A very proud man with a small selection of his butterfly collection. What this guy doesn't know about butterflies & dragonflies...

His collection is to be bequeathed to The Natural History museum.

We had the private view for London Independent photographer's (crouch end group) this week; great turn-out and a wide variety of exemplary work. Scroll down for opening times etc.

I got asked to photograph another Somalian wedding party, which in itself is fine, but the organisation of some of these weddings is mind-boggling: I was initially asked if I was available around 1pm on the day of the party, but had assumed it was a no-go, until at 5.50pm I got the call to confirm. I got home just in time to change, get my gear together and arrive at the party for a 7 pm start! Seems you can pick up a photographer anytime, any place, any where!

It wasn't like a small party!

It wasn't like a small party!

Some other highlights were my mudlarking expedition which I have written about already, and a long-overdue visit to My old Dutch on Shrove Tuesday. I would advise going there with an empty stomach!

Flipping out on Shrove Tuesday.

Flipping out on Shrove Tuesday.

Marching on to, well, March... have a good one!

Amanda 
 

My first Mudlark

Old and New: Worn metal, shiny glass.

Old and New: Worn metal, shiny glass.

I have a few friends that partake in the pursuit of Mudlarking: scavenging in river mud for objects of worth.

The term became popular during the 18th and 19th Centuries when London was a major stopping point on the trade routes, bringing in cargo from all around the world.  Some of the poorest Londoners made their living by scouring the river looking for anything of value: washed-up cargo, dead bodies to loot, coins and bits and pieces of metal they found on the foreshore at low tide.  Anything they could find to sell on.  These were the Mudlarks. 

In London today the tradition still exists but the treasure has changed.   

Yesterday morning I was initiated in this pursuit by chief mudlarker and Mosaic artist, Alex McHallam, along with Helen Kamisnsky, mixed media artist and our furry friend Brodie. Both artists have woven pieces of debris, washed up on the shores of the Thames into some of their work. I just went for the inspiration!

We drove down to Wapping, enjoying the city at it's best on a gloriously sunny Sunday. Within minutes I discovered 'find of the day' which was an old rusted key, which sadly I failed to photograph: it's nearly midnight, so don't think I'll set up a shot now!

Anyway, here are some other bits of metal that caught my eye and a few other snaps from a great morning's work!

Leaf on metal meets sludge

Leaf on metal meets sludge

Entwined

Entwined

Not sure what this was, but I thought it was beautiful

Not sure what this was, but I thought it was beautiful

Down Anchor!

Down Anchor!

Rusted round

Rusted round

Follow the yellow, orange, white brick road...

Follow the yellow, orange, white brick road...

It's blue - I'm happy!

It's blue - I'm happy!

No bones to be found today

No bones to be found today


Little coincidences

Feel like a little ramble on tuning in...

Until today I am unaware that I have given the island of St. Helena any real thought, but whilst checking out fellow photographer, Stu Pilkington's website I saw a picture that had beautiful light - a light that reminded me of a picture I really liked in the Taylor Wessing Exhibition this year by Jon Tonks.  It's an image of Marcus Henry at the meteorological station in St. Helena http://www.jontonks.com/portfolio/st-helena-2/#4

The initial image was by Carrie Will and as well as great light it made me chuckle. See it here http://www.someoneiknow.net/carriewill.html

One brain cell led to another and I found myself looking into where exactly St. Helena lies and I discover that it is one of the oldest remaining of the British Overseas Territories, and lies in the South Atlantic. The RMS St Helena is the only way anything, living or inanimate gets to St Helena. 

Are you still with me? Roll on a few hours and I am looking into various societies to find participants for my Downtime project. I searched for Stamp collectors and found 'The Royal Philatelic Society London'. On the homepage is a link to 'St. Helena Archives announcement'. This is what I found...

"The Julian Chapman Memorial Scholarship, administered by The Royal Philatelic Society London, has helped save the postal archives of the South Atlantic island of St. Helena." The Scholarship is available to philatelists, wherever resident, wishing to study Commonwealth stamps or postal history.

So it's funny how all these people have added up to my new 'knowledge' of St. Helena. I have enjoyed seeing some great images and unless by serendipity any of these people happen to read this blog post, they will never know! 

Ramble over.