Dog bore and part-time piano-fiddling, photo-taking noise maker.
Goes quick, doesn’t it? But, with just a little effort – a short(ish), bracing early morning climb up Shropshire’s Wrekin – you can make the rocket-propelled festive rocket ship that is Christmas Day just a little more memorable.
No better time than the golden hour.
Last Sunday, I played photographer, instead of athlete. This is in part because – and as my aching legs from yesterday’s fifty-six mile bike ride will testify – I’m not an athlete.
So, instead of running the 13.1 miles of the challenging Birmingham half marathon, I took to the sidelines. And spotted Kermit. Clearly not relishing the challenge ahead. Poor little frog.
Some weeks are incredibly challenging. Your brain hurts. You can almost feel it throbbing. Feet ache, as does every limb.
Then, you remember certain places exist. And that they’re not very far away at all.
Spent some time on Sunday pretending I was a professional sports photographer. I don’t think it worked. It did take me back, though.
The smell of Deep Heat, cries of ‘yellow head!’, vein-busting grimacing and football at times so bad it was genuinely laugh-out-loud funny. Not a single player intent on giving anything less than their all, though (take note, Northampton Town Football Club).
I do miss Sunday league, although standing on the touchline, lens in hand, was somewhat easier on my legs.
p.s. can anyone work out what the dude by the post is doing?
You rise early. And you wait.
Camera perched precariously on top of its bag, resting against the hotel window ledge, you wait. You figure it’s worth the effort; the sea isn’t usually this close.
The sun, due at 8.02am (according to the ever-unreliable iOS Weather app), makes but the briefest of appearances before scurrying back behind cloud cover.
Was the wait worth it? Probably.
Remember Windows XP? Quite often, while travelling the country, I look out for fields which remind me of the default XP background. This kinda stuff happens to you when you travel alone.
I’m yet to find it. Although, that’s probably because the real one is somewhere in California. It certainly isn’t in Canons Ashby, Northampton.
We’re in that odd, ethereal, in-between time. Christmas is over. The last scraps of turkey gratefully departed, trees and decorations in danger of making their way back into forced hibernation. Friends, family and gatherings temporarily on hold until New Years Eve.
Work, for many of us, remains paused and seemingly further away and less important than ever before.
Time stops.
Pressures ease.
The air cools, and calms.
Another year is ending.
Here’s to an awesome 2014.
