Today started with deep blue skies and stark autumn yellows. My hand ached to hold a camera and in my head I heard my father’s voice, “It’s a 25 ASA day”.

I don’t think he rated every day in terms of the American Standard Association rating of film sensitivity but I knew that he appreciated bright, sunny days with the stark, clean light like we had this morning.

In those days photography was very different. You bought film for the day and had to stick with what you had in the camera until you used up the roll. Get it wrong and it was either costly in terms of mistakes or a short day as the light changed and the camera had to be put away.

Days like today were always a 25 ASA day, never 15 DIN, despite the fact that the two were the same rating. In those days I was struggling with things like f stops and depth of field. He was patient, teaching me the mechanics and not commenting when I failed to grasp the aesthetics of what I should be doing.

It’s been over twenty years and I still struggle to hear his voice. Partly for the comfort of it, partly because I wonder what he’d say about the things I face now. Of course it doesn’t work. Time rubs away the memory every moment and makes it harder to hear it and remember. Except of course on those few, bright 25 ASA days.

Posted by Mark at 10:26 PM | Permalink

For a long time now I’ve wondered about what direction to go in. I’ve had a few experiments and liked what I’ve found.

A whole new world opened up before my eyes when I was brave enough to venture from what I knew. Sure it feels a little uncomfortable even now and I get some odd looks but I think I’ve finally found something that is more “me”.

It started a while ago with that first time. Discovering a whole new way of doing something which I thought I’d mastered a long time ago. Now it’s slowly becoming second nature and feels less awkward.

Of course it was an uncomfortable journey but in the end I’m happier now with what I’m doing than a few months back.

I now look at the pictures that I take and have something in my armoury more than the ability to rotate and sharpen the pictures. I play with cross processing, lomography, tints and emulsions. Possibilities reveal themselves with the addition of grain and noise that I used to want to remove from every picture.

No longer am I a straight photographer who wants to capture the moment as I see it. It’s taken a while but I’m no longer straight …

Posted by Mark at 10:27 PM | Permalink

After a leisurely Sunday lunch and a game or two of Connect Four we headed out to wander along the South Bank, visit the October Plenty, marvel at the Carsten Höller slides and get some chips to eat by the Thames as the late October sun set.

It’s moments like this when you really appreciate what an amazing place London can be …

Posted by Mark at 10:22 PM | Permalink

There’s one of those chain mails which occasionally pops into your inbox with words of wisdom which says something like, “Dance as though no one is watching” and tonight we saw that being done in front of a few hundred people.

On a retro music evening (which took us back to the 80’s starting with Kenny Thomas and ended up with an electric bass with lights up the fretboard) we got barred from the auditorium with glasses of wine and had to down them in a minute like school kids caught on their first trip to the pub.

There’s no doubt that Level 42 have kept their following. From the moment they walked onstage people were on their feet, singing and dancing along.

Maybe the new stuff isn’t to everyones taste but the old classics went down well enough and just for one evening one woman dancing in the walkway of the circle was back in her youth in the 1980’s and again with the band that she loves.

Posted by Mark at 11:04 PM | Permalink

“I’m going to take your carpet”, said Joanne wrapping herself up in the sheepskin in front of the fire and munching happily on some prawn crackers as one of the all day music TV channels played in the background.

Back in the kitchen it was less hedonistic with Richard surfing the Net and Martin and I planning a firework night.

Odd how we ended up with the hard kitchen chairs and she ended up with the soft carpet….

Posted by Mark at 11:10 PM | Permalink

Just when we thought we had everything setup we tried to plug the cables in, and discovered that they had the wrong terminations on them.

So, back to ordering, progress chasing and people asking, “is it here yet”.

As Winston said, “Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”

Posted by Mark at 9:42 PM | Permalink

Three years ago I was sitting reading a posting on a website about something called blogging and , after reading a selection of the few blogs available then, I decided to have a go

So, on a domain far, far away (and after installing Moveable Type) this post was born.

After a few hesitant starts I ended up making this promise and then in October 2004 standing in Trafalgar Square I had a moment of revelation and decided to put photography and words on the same page.

As a result, and with the odd few gaps, we’ve been here two years. I still find it fun and challenging, often frustrating as I struggle to find the right words or simply to remember what I actually did but as I look back and read on the whole I smile and I hope it’s the same for you.

I still read other people’s blogs and I’m still amazed by the quality of the writing and photography and that’s what pushes me on.

We (I) got here thanks to these people and others so please take a moment to visit them as well :

• Mike Pugh, whose travel blog made me want to travel, write and film then have the ability to put it all online
• Francis Strand’s award winning blog with a linguistic twist writing about a city I love
• Meg Hourihan who started as geek here and ended up a foodie there
• Tonya Poole blogger and photographer and a whole lot more…
• David Nightingale who slowly taught me the value of Photoshop and that it’s not simply for turning the picture around

Happy Birthday weblog !

Posted by Mark at 10:52 PM | Permalink

“I’ll just run a line test and pass the call back to engineering ….”, it’s been the same now for a week and a day.

“Are we sure it’s not the modem ?”, I ask as I hear the clicks start on the line.

Apparently the lights look OK on the ADSL modem, or so I’m told. The only thing to do is pass the call back to engineering which is what we have been doing now for a week and a day. It’s getting to be quite a routine and I’m sure I’m starting to recognise some of the voices.

I manage to say, “There’s some odd clicks on the line, has this really been tested ?”, before a nice woman clearly enunciates that the number I have dialled has not been recognised and the best thing I can do is hang up and try again.

I call back, get put through to someone else, negotiate the security checks, pass on the call reference, listen to them read out the call and get another test on the line. “We need to pass the call back to engineering”. I ask for the complaint line number.

I hang up and call the complaints line. It’s the wrong number. Well done BT.

Posted by Mark at 10:27 PM | Permalink

I seem to be stuck in some celluloid time loop at the moment checking out films from the Seventies.

Latest to make their way through my DVD player are :

• The Taking of Pelham 123
• All the Presidents Men
• Dog Day Afternoon

Luckily I have Kongekabale for a little more up to date intrigue.

Posted by Mark at 9:17 PM | Permalink

It’s started. Outbreaks of decorations. Cards on sale.

Walking around the town this afternoon in the rain little signs of Christmas are beginning to be evident everywhere. Hurrying Halloween out of the way, the festive season is almost upon us.

In only a few weeks shopping will become open warfare as desperation sets in.

I really need to take some time to plan out where and when to go or I’m going to be lost in the avalanche.

Posted by Mark at 11:15 PM | Permalink

You don’t expect to hear a voice from your college years when you turn on Radio Three but there it was, warm and unmistakable.

From the yearly college show, local pubs to jazz festivals we travelled around, often late at night, nearly always in search of a curry.

When we first met him he was described by Jayne as, “The sweet little man with the caved in face” but we came to know him as someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of jazz, comedy and films. Quiet and unassuming off stage, with a trombone in his hands he was transformed into a star performer his hips and arms moving with the music or singing I Ain’t Got Nobody plaintively looking at the audience for sympathy.

I wish I’d taken more time to talk to Michael Pointon then, to learn and enjoy his company before that final gig. Still, here’s a chance to take a few moments and listen and learn again. Head over to BBC Three and hear that magic voice again.

Posted by Mark at 8:24 PM | Permalink

The mid morning pang of hunger took me up the road to Meenu’s shop and the discovery that Polish food is closer than I thought.

I’d noticed some time back that one of the local bakeries was producing traditional Polish bread but now it seems that Meenu is stocking that and a whole lot more.

Picked peppers, sauerkraut and Polish sausages all beckon. For now it’s sourdough bread but it won’t be long before I’m back there to try the rest ….

Posted by Mark at 8:10 PM | Permalink

Airports, I have come to recognise, have a style of their own.

Dabolim airport in Goa appears on first inspection to be something left over from the Raj. A military airport which has reluctantly opened it’s doors to tourists it bristles airside with soldiers in dress uniform saluting and marching around. Arrivals is cramped and incessantly slow : an early sign of Indian officiousness. The queue moves an inch at a time towards immigration and the people who will rubber stamp visas and passports into submission. The first time I came I was bored, the second time I realised that it was a moments respite before the arrivals hall with the gangs of porters grabbing bags away from owners in an attempt to make a few rupees.

Arlanda in Stockholm is very different. Clean Swedish design with high roofs and sweeping curves. Staff move from terminal to terminal on scooters, gliding past people struggling with bags. At Sky City, the main collection of shops, you can purchase pickled herring next to luxury goods whilst those going on a package deal stock up on bags of Bilar (apparently the sweets old people eat) to consume on the plane.

Heathrow always seems to be welcoming to me. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been here so many times, either returning home, welcoming people back or collecting people who are staying over for a while. It’s a place I know my way to and somewhere I drive past on my way to work, watching the planes and wondering just how do they stay up there.

Gatwick, however, is completely new to me. I’ve flown probably twice from here and sitting waiting today I was struck by how different it felt. There were no large crowds of people waiting expectantly for that first glance of a loved one. No one broke free from the crowds to run towards anyone. Sure there were people waiting but they sat on chairs glancing around and when someone walked out from arrivals (rather like walking out from a changing room but with slightly more bags) they got up said hello and walked out to the car park.

Have we really become this accepting of sitting in a tube of aluminium at 35,000 feet going in excess of 100 mph ? I hope I don’t get like that. Whether it’s travelling or collecting someone I’m still excited by the sights and sounds of airports and all the more if I’m picking up someone I care for.

Posted by Mark at 7:23 PM | Permalink

“Been a while since you been here”, said the man checking my subscription.

“Yeah, about six months”, I replied, looking over his shoulder at the darkness and rain outside. It’s only 5:30 and it seems like the middle of the night. The glare of the store lights reflect back at me from the window. They seem to have been the brightest thing I’ve seen all day.

“You want a bag for those ? It’s raining hard out there”.

“No”, I reply and pick up the pile of DVDs and resign myself to Winter and life indoors.

Posted by Mark at 11:47 PM | Permalink

Telegraph | News | Why Oct 17th is an important date for your diary

For most of us, next Tuesday will be another day to tick off on our personal calendars, one day closer to Christmas or one day further away from the summer holidays.

But a group of charities headed by the National Trust and English Heritage hope that it will become a moment of history unlike any other with the launch of the greatest mass “blog” ever.

Fry used a line from Shakespeare to urge people to take part in the “One Day in History” blog: “As Henry V would say: ‘Gentlemen in England now abed will hold themselves accursed they were not here’”

The blogs should contain a reflection on how history affected the person writing on that particular day, but this could be something as simple as describing an old building they walk past on the way to school or a discussion with a relative about the family tree.

Even the repeat of an old television programme and reflections on how fast our world is changing would fit the bill, the organisers said.

So, head on over to the History Matters website and upload your diary for today and contribute to biggest blog ever, to be stored at the British Museum….

Posted by Mark at 7:09 AM | Permalink

Can it really be thirty three years ago that Capital Radio started ?

Back then it was Graham Dene at breakfast; Dave Cash at lunch and Little Nicky Horne with Your Mother Wouldn’t Like it and 6 of the Best.

Saturdays were Kenny Everett and his amazing radio show, some of which is thankfully preseeved. Go on, have a listen to Captain Kremmen …

Posted by Mark at 6:46 PM | Permalink

I was supposed to be walking in a forest but as soon as my feet stepped on the sand I felt all the stress drain away from me.

The plan had been to meet after I dropped K at the airport and go for a walk for some air and exercise. Despite the fact that we had to negotiate two lanes closed on one motorway as we headed to the airport and I had to dodge another closed motorway on the way back I made good time and called Martin when I was almost home. The call revealed that the plans had changed as Joanne had been ill in the night and all they wanted to do was rest and chill. “I called and left a message on your mobile and at home”, said Martin, which was a little odd as I’d had no missed calls and no voicemail.

I was a little surprised to see them all dressed up and about to head out when I pulled up in the road but it seemed that Anne has invited them up for a meal. I changed, grabbed a camera and headed off myself.

I’ve said before that at times of stress and when I need to relax it’s to the sea I head. Today was supposed to be a forest walk to take pictures of Autumn colour but with the sky high and blue the sea called me.

So, that’s how I found myself setting foot on the beach and wondering if this really is the 15th of October. From the first lambs of Spring, through the harvests of late Summer to the bonfires at the start of Winter there are things which mark the passing of one season and the start of another. Today it seemed that this was the day to be cleaning and repairing one’s beach hut. A ritual of late Autumn before the high seas of Winter.

I have to confess that for a long time now I’ve harboured a desire to have one of these huts and spend my time sitting by the sea reading books, making simple meals on a small gas fire and watching life pass by. Perhaps it’s fact that they remind me of the time I spent with my Father in his shed on a Sunday morning learning to solder or how to use chisels. Maybe it’s the fact that these small huts are less daunting than living in a house surrounding us as they do with a single room with no frills rather like a cocoon. Whatever it is today was one for the few hardy souls who sat out to the bitter end of summer. A warm, bright day stolen from Winter where the Sunday papers, a cup of tea and a sleep in a recliner looked ideal.

The beach itself was almost deserted, a complete contrast to the mass of humanity on a summer’s day. Today it was only the people who really appreciated it who had taken the trouble to find a corner against a groyne where the sun would linger the longest, faces turned to the sky making the most of this unseasonal weather.

All I wanted to do was walk and walk. I seem recently to have lost touch with life outside of an office or the inside of a car. The sound of the sea, the smells of the late flowering plants and the bird song was amazing. What have I been doing to miss all this for so long ? On and on I walked enjoying every step, the chance at last to use my body for more than walking from front door to car.

The pier was disappointing. Not as grand as Brighton it lacked the long walk out to sea but, nevertheless, was a good place to stop and watch the surfers enjoying the sun and the slight swell of ther sea, looking hopefully to the horizon for “the big one”.

With the light changing to that magical, golden pre-sunset light I love so much it was time to head back. A few people had arrived to play beach cricket and it reminded me of Goa and as I strolled along I was back there walking back to the apartment in Candolim with the air having that warm, dusty smell and the sun large and red hanging over the water.

By now most of the beach huts were closed up. I walked past some newly painted for the winter, some sporting new creosoted decking, the smell of the preservative mixing with that of the sea. The last part of the walk took me back onto the sand before the struggle up the dunes and down the other side to the car.

At home I tipped the sand from my shoes and put it with the shells on the shelf in the kitchen. A little bit of seaside to keep me sane until I can visit again.

For more pictures please look here …

Posted by Mark at 9:50 PM | Permalink

In the mist of an Autumn morning I took the chance to get some gardening done.

This summer the bamboo at the bottom of the garden flowered and died. In the tiny hill state of Mizoram in north-east India the locals say that when the bamboo flowers, famine, death and destruction will soon follow. Perhaps that accounts for the failure of white goods and the mess at work this year. It’s more likely down to the age of the plant but it does make you wonder. Looking at it from the kitchen window I decided I was fed up with the brown clump of dead sticks where once green shoots flourished in heat and snow. It put up a good struggle but eventually I cleared it out leaving the roots to dig out and a new plant to find.

This evening was home cooking and a night in as K packed for her trip to the States. I managed a reasonable meal of meatballs, tomato sauce and pasta produced with a minimum of washing up and we watched TV which, for me, is a novelty at the moment.

Posted by Mark at 11:17 PM | Permalink

“My pillow is filled with clouds”, said Joanne, happily showing off the latest addition to her increasingly girly bedroom.

Everyone was tired from a combination of a long week, a wonderful roast (courtesy of Fhai) and perhaps a little too much wine which is why, unusually, Joanne was heading for bed early but not before showing off her room to me.

The plan had been to take some time off after the lunchtime presentation but we were all so exhausted and disappointed by it all that all we could do was sit and talk in a vain attempt to make some sense of it. I suppose the upside of it was that it happened on a Friday and we have a few days away to get some perspective and reflect on it.

Listening to Robert tonight I was struck by just how pointless work was at the moment and that there were more important things in life. I sat and listened to him talk and drifted back to the dark times when my Mother was ill, the visits to hospital and hospice and the blur of organising a funeral.

I could walk away from my problems in a moment. I’ve even worked out some figures on a scrap of paper to see how long I could survive on my savings. I’m very lucky to be able to even consider that. Other people have issues that can’t be run away from or easily put to one side.

What’s your pillow made of ?”, I asked Richard as I tucked him up after an evening of playing with the train simulation program on his PC. “Microsoft”, he replied. “Sleep well”, I said, “Don’t have nightmares…”

Posted by Mark at 11:07 PM | Permalink

The phone rings again for what seems to be the eighth time this half hour and I pick it up to look at the number on the display and this time smile.

“Hello Father, fancy some tucker tomorrow ?”, says the familiar voice and I laugh, feeling my face relax.

In the long haul of a fourteen hour day it’s just what I need and the change in me is evident on those around me as I lighten up and change gear swiftly from corporate speak to a discussion of Martin’s news and if it will be wine or beer tomorrow.

One day to go …

Posted by Mark at 11:59 PM | Permalink

At 5am the storm really kicked in with torrents of water making a fairly good job of washing the worst of the last few weeks dirt off the car.

By 7am, after what seemed like the storm settling right above my house, the picture on the TV had changed from clear to something seen through a snow storm.

At 11am we had all the lights on in the office and we were still watching a monsoon.

By 1pm someone had their favourite lippy confiscated.

At 8pm I was looking not at the TV, where it was still snowing, but my address book for Alan the Ariel’s number.

By 9pm the storms, finally, stopped.

Posted by Mark at 9:10 PM | Permalink

“We need to change what we have done…” Not the best way to start the day.

In the middle of the first day of everyone trying to work together, unclear demands and priorities this curved ball thrown into the ruck early on a Tuesday morning was the last thing I wanted to hear.

At one point making any changes on this project seemed harder than trying to turn around a supertanker in the middle of the Panama Canal. Latterly we seem to be constantly re-planning so, with a shrug, I started up Project and got on with the business of shifting dates around.

This evening, with my head too full to settle down to read my book I reached for the copy of Hagakure to dip into. I’d been meaning to read it since I watched Ghost Dog : Way of the Samurai, which I should really replace.

Flicking through the pages my eyes settled on this, which sums up life at work at the moment :

There is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. When you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you still get the same soaking.

Posted by Mark at 9:47 PM | Permalink

It’s been a while, so here’s some life hacks :

• Free Classical music downloads
• Make your own pop art
• Cool places to work
• Free media convertor

Posted by Mark at 9:11 PM | Permalink

All I managed today was to sleep, lounge on the sofa and watch films. Not a bad way to spend the day aside from the fact that I didn’t feel great. It seems to be a warning not to get so bound up by life at work and to step away from issues where I can.

For now, it’s time to sleep, again …

Posted by Mark at 7:34 PM | Permalink

I’ve walked past the Criterion many, many times and never considered just where it’s built. Today we found out.

When, in 1870, the caterers Spiers and Pond decided to develop the site of a seventeenth century posting inn known as The White Bear it was Thomas Verity’s design for a new development consisting of a large restaurant, dining rooms, ballroom, and galleried concert hall in the basement which won. Like many projects it was changed in construction and the concert hall changed to a theatre. It almost didn’t open as the local council feared people would be gassed as fresh air had to be pumped down into it to counter the effects of the gas lights. In the Second World War it was used by the BBC for recorded and live broadcasts, it’s unique location ensuring that, despite the bombings, the show always went on.

We didn’t dine at the Criterion but chose instead Don Luigi’s a few streets away in Soho for some good, authentic Italian food. Surrounding us on the walls were pictures of all the celebrities who had done the same before us. It’s a little odd to be watched by the likes of Pauline Quirk and Freddie Mercury while you are eating but the Don himself was there to ensure everything was attended to. So, after chicken and veal and a rather nice bottle of white we settled down to watch the 39 Steps.

Recreating a movie which required 24 people with a cast 4 needs a lot of invention but on the whole it worked well. Of course it wasn’t just the people on stage, some very funny special effects helped as well (watch out for the plane crash and the train journey).

Back outside in the London night we headed over to Covent Garden for a drink after the show. The nights are definitely drawing in and we didn’t sit outside quite as long but it was a nice way to end the evening.

Posted by Mark at 11:23 PM | Permalink

“Have you got any prawn crackers?”, asked Joanne by way of introduction as she walked in with Richard from the gloom outside.

He, of course, was much more interested in if the laptop was turned on and, after that, the news that he was off to see his first football game tomorrow.

Last in was Martin, still wearing shorts, with a bottle in his hands. “I opened this earlier”, he said, helping himself to a couple of champagne flutes from the cupboard.

So, another week ends. In the kitchen, with music playing, the whole drama of project plans, deadlines and meetings slides away. Richard explores the hidden secrets of word processing, for once the CBBC site is untouched. Joanne piles all the cushions onto the rug in the front room and Martin and I catch up on news and plan some trips out.

Posted by Mark at 11:16 PM | Permalink

No seems to come in all sorts of forms. From the cutely delievered one Joanne is capable of to the flat outright one we seem to hear more and more each day.

Today seemed to be a succession of them until, in the end, we joined in. No more. Let’s try again tomorrow.

Posted by Mark at 7:49 PM | Permalink

We seem to be fighting rather an uphill battle and at the same time slipping into a comfortable routine.

Rather like people cast adrift in an open sea we struggle to get our heads above the waves for a moment before we’re submerged again in project plans and Demand Order Forecasts.

In the early stages it was easy : we had a lot to do and we could spend a day making great inroads, walking out of the office at the end of the day with a sense of achievement.

Now, with little direction and conflicting demands, we seem to walk out feeling rather like you do at the end of a indifferent meal. We tried the odd morsel, spent a lot of the time pushing things around the plate and, in the end, walked out feeling rather cheated, hungry and let down.

Posted by Mark at 10:40 PM | Permalink

• Ice skating at Somerset House
• A trip to the Opera
• Mary Poppins
• The October Plenty
• Weekend by the sea

Posted by Mark at 11:48 PM | Permalink

There’s been some discussion recently about the videos here and the quality of them.

The rather excellent Turn Here has much better videos. Short films, cool places including my old stamping ground of Uptown, Minneapolis, Tom’s Diner New York and this one on Krakow, Poland.

Posted by Mark at 7:54 PM | Permalink

In part Sophie’s homework, perhaps an idea for us all to make a million, definitely the state we were in around the table…..

Posted by Mark at 10:09 PM | Permalink