Earworms and couplings

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Earworms are terrible things. I mean, of course, the snippet of a tune that keeps playing itself over and over in your head to the point where it drives you to distraction. I recently had the Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen song, "Love and Marriage", on replay in my head. It's a song I positively dislike, one I remember from my early childhood when it was popular through Frank Sinatra's recording.  "Love and marriage", Frank repeatedly tells us, "goes together like a horse and carriage", and what's more, "you can't have one without the other." That was never true when the song was current and it's even less so today.

But, it is true that there are many instances where "you can't have one without the other." One example is the coupling of trees and shrubs with twentieth century rectilinear architecture. Architects' drawings and builders constructions alike are incomplete without the waywardness of branches and leaves as a counterpoint to the rigid verticals and horizontals of windows, doors, roof lines, storey separators etc. I took today's photograph in the city of Peterborough. The exterior of these offices consists of the same concrete panel with its centrally placed window repeated across every facade. Nearby, to offer contrast and soften the hard lines, are large trees. So, I decided to co-operate with the architects and incorporate the two in my photographic composition.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Concrete Offices and Branches, Peterborough
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 80mm (160mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Concrete pantiles

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The first flat clay tiles (plain tiles) in England were probably those introduced by the Romans. They manufactured them here too and examples can still be found in the cities, towns and villas that were built during their time in these islands. Medieval masons found them and incorporated some in their walling, though they increasingly manufactured their own plain tiles as a fire-proof replacement for thatch.The pantile with its "S" shaped curve was introduced into England from the Low Countries in the seventeenth century. Its name derives from the old Dutch "dakpan" (roof pan) and the German "pfannenziegel" (pantile). They quickly became popular in the eastern counties of our country where thatch predominated and roofing stone was scarce. In these areas, by the eighteenth century, pantiles were the roof covering of choice for anyone with a reasonable amount of money. Today they are still manufactured, still used for roofs and there are still examples from the earliest times to be seen on roofs, continuing to protect the buildings that often date from centuries ago.

Twentieth century manufacturers of concrete tiles weren't slow to realise the beauty of pantiles and the ease with which they are laid, overlapping each other and hooked over wooden battens. My garage, a modern structure, is roofed with a variant of this design and the tiles have weathered to a quite pleasing dark, mottled hue that in every aspect, except south-facing, grows a patina of moss and lichen. In spring and summer the low parts of the undulating roof surface are favourite spots for house sparrows to sun themselves. When the snows arrive the tiles are quickly covered. However, I always look forward to the thaw because pleasing patterns are made by the retreating snow. Squally March snow showers have afflicted us recently and today's photograph shows the roof after a spell of sunshine had begun to do its work.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/2000
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fascinating hexagons

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Ask a person in the street to name something that involves regular hexagons and they'll almost certainly come up with either the honeycomb or the snowflake. The reason why bees make their cells using this shape is thought to be the fact that it uses the least material for a given volume. It's the hexagon's ability to tessellate perfectly that is the key to our fascination with the shape. Squares and triangles have this property too (as do many other less common shapes), but they don't do it with the same interesting elegance.

Honeycombs and snowflakes aren't the only naturally occuring hexagons. Basalt columns exhibit this quality, as does the crystal beryl, the turtle's carapace and even a north polar cloud system on Saturn. Man has made use of the tessellation properties of the hexagon in things as diverse as floor tiles, patchwork quilts, glass window blocks, paving and house plans. It is also the shape used for the "Seabee" concrete blocks used to make the honeycomb sea-walls found on low-lying coasts subject to erosion. Placed as a revetment over gravel or stone they work by the holes absorbing the force of the waves. They are one of the more expensive methods of protecting a coast, but have been found effective when used judiciously. The examples in today's photograph are part of a length at Skegness, Lincolnshire. I chose a section where steps cut through the Seabees and I composed this semi-abstract image.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: 6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On