“No rest for the wicked”… that’s how the saying goes, isn’t it? Well, I must be a right wicked sod in that case! Rest? Pah. I’ve forgotten what it looks like. Or feels like.
It all started with that little jaunt I had north of the border last month. Came back with loads of pics, didn’t I? Well, of course I did. Seeing as how that’s the main reason I went. Well, that and cos its one of my “pet causes” so to speak.
Gets back then and, surprise surprise, I have all these damn pics to edit, process etc. Hell’s bells! Not only that but in double-quick time like, too. So I do. Then bung a few here. Bung a few there. Sort out some for this little group. Sort out some more for that little group. And so on. A right mammoth task it was. But then, it always is after these week-long events. Oh well. Such is life I guess.
But does it end there? Not a bit of it.
Cos on top of all the pics I also have some writing type stuff to do! Not just one bit of writing type stuff either, but quite a few. Like something for this blog for example (else it may start feeling neglected, poor little thing). And other somethings for other blogs and stuff. And I still haven’t finished all that… even now. In fact, I’ve barely started. Oops.
Plus loads of other things, totally unrelated to either pics or writing, that really do have to be done. Like pronto. In fact, I’m getting tired all over again just thinking about all this stuff.
Then, as if that wasn’t enough, I go and squeeze another little photo jaunt in… which again ends up with me fiddling around with loadsa pics and blog posts and stuff.
So today (well, yesterday by now) I’d just about had enough and say “Sod it! What I need is a nice relaxing bit of chill-out time. Just slobbing around and indulging myself sorta thing. Nothing arduous, nothing demanding. A bit of R & R.” But do I get a chance to slob? Do I hell! What I actually find myself doing is another little photo sesh… with the Norfolk Oaf this time.
I happened to recollect that quite some time ago he’d mentioned having another go at Cardington Lock (see… my brain does work… sometimes). Last time we went that way he only had his point’n’shoot so he’s felt like having another bash at it with his dSLR. (I dunno… some people are never satisfied.)
Suits me however. And the weather wasn’t too bad. Warm and sunny most of the time despite all the clouds bombing around the sky. So I get meself into town a bit earlier than normal (not much earlier cos the damned bus was late… well, at least its consistent) and, hooking up with Oaf, head out for Cardington Lock. After the obligatory bit of nosh of course (though certain… um… “standards” in our favoured noshery are definitely on the decline).
Curiously, en route to our destination, that just happened to take us along by the river…
… we find ourselves vaguely mulling over the possibility of ice cream. Odd that. It’s not as though we’re addicted to the stuff or anything. Ahem. Anyway, we didn’t encounter any ice cream vans dammit, even though we may just have happened to pass by every single place along the river that they appear to lurk. Just by chance sorta thing. Double dammit!
So eventually we get to Cardington Lock. Though we were rather sidetracked along the way by some curious objects bobbing around in the canoe slalom. Naturally we had to investigate further.
Don’t look much like canoes to me! Possibly some new-fangled canoe from Apple, knowing how big they are on design and stuff. iCanoe! Sounds about right.
But the lock… Hmm. Strangely it wasn’t anywhere near as inspiring as we both remembered it having been. We managed to snare one or two reasonably tasty pics but on the whole it was a bit of a disappointment.
And somehow I managed to stick my hand right in some “fresh this minute” duck poo! (At least, I think it was duck poo. If it wasn’t then I’d hate to imagine what it was.) I only missed sitting in it by an inch or two. All wet and slimy it was. Yucch! Just as well we were by the river… aka the big hand-washing basin. And no, I didn’t take a pic of it!
The poo that is… not the river. Obviously I took pics of the river. To add to my collection of zillions of other river pics. Cos I have nowhere near enough. Or so I tell myself.
Having exhausted the potential of the Lock (well, for today… er… yesterday at least) we ambled a little bit further on, to a bridge we remembered. Just as well cos at that point it started raining. Not big heavy rain but rain nevertheless. A brief shower really. But still kinda wet. So we sheltered under the bridge and played silly buggers for a while.
After about ten minutes or so (certainly long enough to have a fag or two apiece) the rain stops so we shift ourselves and head back past the Lock toward Priory Country Park. Where we halt by the lake.
“Aha! We’ll get some nice tranquil lake shots” thinks us. And some not so tranquil “one of us chucks a stone in the water whilst the other snaps the splash” shots. That being the sort of stupid creative thing we do.
Great fun, and we could have spent ages just doing that. We could have. But we didn’t. Cos those damned birds spotted us and sauntered over. It happens whenever we’re even in sniffing distance of water. Swans and ducks (though swans mainly)… they just congregate around us. It’s not as though we encourage them, or feed them or anything. I could understand it then. But we don’t. We don’t even talk very much to them.
But I think I’ve sussed out why it happens.
Y’see, them swans, soon as they spot us they have a meeting and chat amongst themselves. Something along the following lines…
“Oh look. It’s those two idiot photographers again. Let’s all go over to them and taunt them with our grace and beauty. They just can’t resist you know. They’re bound to photograph us. Like they always do.”
And naturally the ducks follow along after, crafty little sods. Anything to get in on the act.
Thing is though, birds have small brains. (Even smaller than mine wouldya believe!) So they haven’t yet cottoned on to the fact that cameras are digital nowadays. So their Machiavellian ploy to get us to waste loads of rolls of film actually doesn’t work. Hah!
Eventually acknowledging that the birds aren’t going to leave us alone we decide to depart the scene and head slowly back toward town. Where we finally manage to get ourselves some ice cream.
Then (ahhh… its good to get back into the old routine again)… The Bear! And I have to say, a nice little session devoted to utterly trivial b&w shots in totally familiar surroundings has been almost as good as a slob.
Apart from the aching feet! Why oh why did I have to go and wear the wrong boots again? It’s exactly the same mistake I made on that little jaunt around Flitwick Moor and elsewhere. What I should have done was wear the boots I wore to Scotland. But did I? Oh no, not me. Instead I plonk on these bloody stupid worn-out things with the heels all shot that really do lead to aching feet after a mile or two. Bloody hell!
Anyway, purely out of the goodness of my heart the slideshow for the entire little session is here! (38 images)