Self-interest and the public good

click photo to enlarge
It's not uncommon to walk down a street and see house and garden after house and garden that are a credit to their owners. The building facades are tidy, mortar is properly pointed, windows are clean, woodwork is well-painted, gardens have colour, interest and evidence of thoughtful attention, and the perimeter of the property has well-managed fences, walls or hedges, that speak of the pride of the householder. And its also not uncommon to find among such houses the odd building and garden that departs from these standards in an extreme way. The facade is unkempt, with peeling paintwork and grubby, cracked windows, whilst the garden is often worse, littered with rubbish, long discarded toys and vehicles that are either abandoned or undergoing repairs. Clearly there can be reasons for properties to be poorly maintained. It happens when the inhabitants become elderly, and the routine of repair and maintenance becomes too difficult or unaffordable. However, it's often for less understandable reasons that people allow their properties to become indistinguishable from a refuse tip.

A well-maintained and presented property can be an expression of the owners' pride, a desire for outward display, and the wish to live in surroundings that are pleasant. In other words, they are a consequence of self-interest. But, it's a self-interest that spawns a public good, because it elevates the surroundings of everyone who lives in the street and passes through it. Frequently there's an element of altruism and community spirit that drives people to beautify their property. Whatever the reasons it invariably makes the place a pleasanter environment for all. I came across an example of this a while ago when I was in the Lincolnshire village of Castle Bytham, a pretty and ancient settlement. As I passed the duck pond I noticed a lovely basket of flowers on the wall of a house. This property has a single wall and a window that abuts the pond. But, notwithstanding this fact, and despite the obvious difficulty of fixing and maintaining the basket in this location, and regardless of the already existing beauty of the tree-lined location with its island and waterfowl, the owner had raised the appeal of the place by going to the trouble of mounting the basket on the stone wall. It looks wonderful, especially when its attractiveness is doubled by its reflection in the water, and it increases the pleasure of everyone who passes by.

When I looked at the flowers last year I wondered how they were kept watered and fed. This year I discovered the secret. There is a narrow tube that comes over the wall and disappears into the compost (you can see it in the photograph). The water and fertilizer must pass through it as and when they are required. I took this shot when the ducks (out of view) were sending ripples across the water. The next time I pass, I hope they are all asleep on the island and I get a better reflection!

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 55mm (110mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Bull bars and inquisitive cows

click photo to enlarge
The main subtext of motor vehicle manufacturers' advertisements is that buying their vehicle will say something about you to the world. They're pretty much right, but what is said isn't always what they imagine. Take off-road vehicles. When I see a 2.5 ton Land Rover Discovery barrelling along the highway, transporting a mother and child on the school run, I think, "That driver must be a half-wit." If it is fitted with bull-bars I think, "That driver must be a complete and utter half-wit with the cognitive powers of a dead ant." What causes me to have these thoughts? Simply the redundancy implicit in using a vehicle of this sort for domestic travel, the selfishness involved in cocooning yourself in a place of safety at the expense of other road users, and the environmental impact of such transport. As for the bull bars, well, the chances of hitting a bull on Britain's roads is marginally less than running over a member of the royal family, so what's the point? Now I know that my thoughts about the drivers of 4X4 vehicles cannot be right: many must be perfectly pleasant, intelligent people, and those that I know certainly are! The trouble is, a large number of them, through their driving, seem intent on making me think otherwise.

Yesterday, as I was photographing the motte and bailey of the former Norman castle at Castle Bytham, Lincolnshire, it occurred to me that the "petal" lens hood on my Zuiko 11-22mm lens is a pretty useful bull-bar, or rather cow-bar. I was in a field taking my photographs when I was approached by a small herd of young cattle. I took a couple of shots of them as foreground interest for my image of the castle mounds, then turned and climbed over the stile out of the field. The animals followed me right up to the fence and crowded around, seemingly wanting their photograph taken again. As I obliged the boldest of the bunch pushed her wet nose so close that I felt it bump up against the lens hood which, very conveniently, saved the filter on the end of the lens from getting snotty.

Taking a couple more shots I reflected that these were the friendliest cows I've encountered for quite a while. However, when I came to process this shot I revised my opinion. I think what I'd taken for friendliness was pushiness; a lack of the social graces due to being badly brought up. What makes me think that? Well look at the cow in the background cleaning its nose out with its tongue. Ugh! Gross! Didn't its mother teach it anything?

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On