Burgers and snap shots

click photo to enlarge
When we were in Seville recently we came upon TGB, also known as The Good Burger, and in Spanish, La Buena Hamburguesa. What drew my attention wasn't the idea that I could have a burger from a place that positioned itself above McDonald's, Burger King and all the other fast food burger outlets, but the bold, illuminated window sign. In the dark of the evening it caught my eye because nearby it took a little effort to decipher but from across the street it was very easily read.

I'm not a patron of the mainstream burger bars. In fact, I don't frequent the upmarket competitors either, though I have had, over the years, a couple of what in London are often called "gourmet burgers"! However, I do enjoy, now and then, a burger of my wife's making. It's what I consider to be a good burger because it comprises good quality beef and tasty, nutritious bread buns that my wife has made. The meat and the bread are the essence of any good burger, and if the former is well cooked and any garnish is sufficient to complement the essentials without overpowering them, then I am usually going to be happy with the offering. I see that this particular Spanish chain prides itself on quality ingredients and their preparation. And I can see how that would appeal to some Spanish people and some visitors. But not this one: for me being in Seville involves sampling Spanish food, particularly the tapas of that city, not a food that is now an international offering. Though we didn't have a burger I did get from the shop a photograph that pleased me. It was a  snap shot (not a snapshot) taking quickly as a person passed by, their silhouette breaking up the words and catching outlining illumination from the shop sign lights.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: The Good Burger, Seville
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f1.8
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: -0.3EV

Flying the Union flag

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I get the impression that the Union flag of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (the UK) is being flown more in recent years than was formerly the case. In January of 2007 I posted a piece about just this subject, noting that it appeared less often than some of the flags of the constituent countries of the UK. Perhaps the referendum on Scotland's independence, that narrowly voted for that country's continuance as part of the UK, has concentrated political minds and a more concerted effort to promote the benefits of unity is under way. One can only hope so.

During my lifetime some nation states, for example West and East Germany, have merged. However, fragmentation has been much more common, and in, for example, eastern Europe, it has at times been very difficult to keep up with the number and names of newly appearing countries. This year the UK's lamentable government, that exercises total power on the back of a mere 36.9% of those who voted, is to invite us to vote on whether to accept a package of changes relating to our membership of the European Community, or to exit from that political grouping. This is being done largely in a (futile) attempt to resolve the ambivalent view of the Conservative Party about being part of Europe. I shall vote for continuing membership for economic and social reasons. I will also be mindful of the fact that wars in Europe are not uncommon, that they usually begin with disputes between near neighbours, and that the people of countries that work together and share common values and aspirations don't, as a rule, try and kill one another.

Today's photograph shows the Union flag flying on the City Hall in Peterborough. My first shot was from the side that was fully lit by the sun. It was fine but relatively uninteresting. I liked this contre jour shot better. It was taken when the sun was behind a cloud. The shadows of the building were much more dramatic and the composition gave greater prominence to the colours of the translucent flag.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo Title: Union Flag, Peterborough City Hall
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (90mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Flocking starlings

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Ever since, during childhood, I developed an interest in birds  I've enjoyed watching and learning from these fascinating creatures. Over the years, as my knowledge grew, I came to see certain species and their habits as markers of the changing seasons. The arrival of the wheatear and the call and tumbling flight of the lapwing were pleasurable and sure markers that spring had arrived. Similarly, the flickering wings and screech of the swift said "summer" just as surely as the warmth of the sun. The onset of autumn is always marked by the gathering of swallows on the wires and the distinctive calls from skeins of geese in lines and "Vs" overhead. And equally representative of that season is the evening flocking of starlings as they gather before going to roost in a favoured place.

When I lived in Lancashire I often saw starlings in clouds, thousands strong, so-called "murmurations", heading for the supporting metal-work under North Pier in Blackpool. This was a favoured site and an impressive sight. I often wondered what a night spent sleeping above a stormy sea was like for these birds. Since my move to Lincolnshire I haven't seen a gathering of starlings as big as the one in Lancashire. However, I do regularly see flocks of a couple of hundred assembling on wires or pylons before going to roost. I'm aware of a few small roosts in conifers and hawthorns, but I've yet to discover a large roost.

Today's photograph is part of a group we saw one evening, as the light was beginning to fail, on some wires on the nearby Fen. It was about fifty to a hundred strong. I took a photograph as they departed, reminded of a similar shot I took a few years ago of rooks.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.) cropped
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shadows and silhouette

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On our relatively frequent trips north of the River Humber we often stop off on our return journey at Barton on Humber, a small town located on the Lincolnshire bank. If a cup of coffee and a walk is required we park at Waters' Edge, a modern multi-use "ecological" building combining information centre, cafe and business units. Its location, with the river on one side and flooded clay pits that have been made into a wild-life area with paths and walks on the other, make it somewhere to get refreshments, have a gentle stroll, and take a few photographs.

I've pointed my camera at the building a few times - both the exterior and the interior. However, the place I come back to quite frequently is a short corridor that ends with a glass block wall. It has what appear to be elements of the heating and ventilation system at high level, and at roof level are large metal tubes. The filtered light, hard utilitarian surfaces and materials give it, to my mind, an unwelcoming atmosphere that contrasts markedly with the light, open, airy spaces with large, laminated wood spars that feature elsewhere. On a recent visit I took this photograph, with my wife as the silhouetted focal point, and added a vignette to emphasise the downbeat character of the space.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reflecting on silhouettes

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One of my early blog posts had the title, The eponymous silhouette, and reflected on how the finance minister of Louis XV, Etienne de Silhouette (1709-1767) spent much of his retirement with paper and scissors making that to which others gave his name. The piece accompanied a photograph of my wife and some small trees in silhouette form in front of a view across a stretch of water in the Lake District. In those early years I posted quite a few photographs featuring silhouettes, often including my wife, but also of gulls, street lights, ducks and much else. Silhouettes in images are very strong forms with heightened impact. Shapes that are of little consequence when brightly lit assume much greater significance and become more attractive as a photographic subject when seen in silhouette, no matter how mundane the subject might usually appear to be.

Consequently, on a recent walk in the Yorkshire Dales near Langcliffe, the sight of the silhouettes of trees and a couple of gates with a distant valley and mountain beyond, immediately drew my eye. I took a shot of the subject and then, realising how much stronger the image would be with a person in silhouette too, I asked my wife to step into the shot.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 42mm (84mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

A River Humber skyline

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In the 1970s I moved from a relatively small settlement in the upland area of the Yorkshire Dales to the Yorkshire city of over a quarter of a million people called Kingston upon Hull. I was a country boy who, unlike most of my contemporaries, enjoyed living in the country, and I found, to my surprise, that I also liked living in a city. I relished the anonymity, enjoyed the visible history, and my photographic eye fed on the ever changing images that were daily before me.

Hull is a port built on a river and alongside a large estuary. It is a flat area, the nearest hills being the Yorkshire and Lincolnshire Wolds several miles away. One of the new things I discovered in my new home was that flat landscapes have beautiful and impressive skies that are ever changing and that make a fine substitute for hills. I also realised that just like hills and mountains, big skies have the capacity to make man, his works and habitations seem insignificant.

On a recent visit to Hull I was reminded of this when I took today's photograph. I was standing on the pier of the long-gone Humber ferry that juts out into the River Humber. Looking over the water downstream I could see on the skyline the ships, cranes, chimneys, cooling towers etc of the city's port and petrochemical site silhouetted against a sliver of pale yellow sky below dark, brooding clouds. Having walked and cycled near these industrial structures I was aware of their imposing size yet here, in this context they looked quite insignificant.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 75mm (112mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1 Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:110
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The taste of deer

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Yesterday I was thinking about the taste of deer. We visited the National Trust-owned stately home of Belton House, near Grantham, Lincolnshire. Part of the extensive grounds surrounding the seventeenth and eighteenth century house is a deer park and the taste of deer was prompted by the sight of the large guards round the younger trees where the deer roamed.

By the "taste of deer" I don't mean to allude to the flavour of venison, but rather, the liking of deer for particular kinds of tree bark - the reason for those guards in today's photograph. I had remembered reading, a while ago, that some species of tree bark were favoured over others. A little research turned up the list I'd seen. Apparently, though preferences vary according to deer species, the availability of other food, season and the type of site, as far as bark stripping (as opposed to leaf browsing) goes certain trees are more sought after. Willow, ash and rowan top the list followed by aspen, lodgepole pine, beech, Norway spruce and other species. There seemed to be a variety of trees protected by guards at Belton, and the fallow deer that make up the park herd had clearly been kept at bay by the steel and wood guards. Some mature trees, however, particularly beech, showed a distinct "browse line". This was where the shoots that commonly cluster at the base of the trunk had been eaten but were untouched higher up.

I spotted this shot as we drove into the grounds and walked back to take it before the sun got any higher and the silhouettes and colours were less strong and the frost had melted.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 56mm (84mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/250 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Constable, Lik, Lutyens and ducks

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Just as absence makes the heart grow fonder so too does repetition make the eye grow weary. The sort of repetition I'm thinking of is the far too frequent pictorial representation of something. In my childhood it was the painting by John Constable called "The Haywain". It's an image that, for many, encapsulates a lost England, a past of horses, thatched cottages, roads that have never seen or heard the motor car, villages unadulterated by mass housing, superstores and the showy paraphernalia of modern life. In short, somewhere that really only exists in fond imaginings. When I was young "The Haywain" featured on calendars, chocolate boxes, reproduction paintings, advertisements, jigsaws, birthday cards, coasters - just about anything that would take its image. This mass bombardment by Constable's fine painting not only devalued it in the eyes of many, but also made people fed up with the sight of it.

Today, in photography, Antelope Canyon, a beautiful geographical feature in the United States has, in recent years, received "The Haywain" treatment. It too features in everything from advertisements to calendars to motivational posters. Worse than that, far too many enthusiastic photographers seem to have journeyed to this phenomenon simply to take their over-saturated version of the "Antelope Canyon" shot. And one is bound to ask - Why?!  What is the point in reproducing a photograph that has been seen so many times before? Why add to the hundreds of thousands of existing photographs? Isn't it better to find a subject that hasn't been photographed to death and try and make something of it? Something or somewhere in your locality, something that you are familiar with? There's a challenge, and there's an opportunity to add something new and original to photography.

Of course, the answer to my question about why would you photograph this much snapped canyon has been answered in recent days: "Because you may be able to sell the image for millions of dollars just as Peter Lik has done." Well, perhaps the opposite is true. Perhaps now that Lik has "monetized" (as they say today) the subject, maybe people will give it a rest and take to more mundane but no less interesting subjects, such as silhouetted ducks on water in front of a Lincolnshire cenotaph designed by the architect Edwin Lutyens.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 20.2mm (54mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Pylons and the big picture

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We are often urged to make sense of the world by looking at "the big picture"; by weaving our way through and past the trivia and minutiae of everyday existence and surveying our existence from on high, from the uplands, from a place where the important things stand out and are not drowned in the inconsequential details of life. The problem is that if (or when) you achieve that exalted position you are just as likely to become very aware of your own inconsequentiality among the multitude and complexity that is life, and the big picture remains just as fragmentary as ever it was.

Perhaps that's why many people specialize or bury themselves in one or two interests. Engaging in activities where you can understand a large part of all there is to know about the subject, or with people who can supply all the answers, clearly has its attractions if you want to avoid the chaos of life. It isn't for me but I can understand why it is for many individuals. Having said that, I still remain baffled at why anyone would choose electricity pylons as their focus! I've mentioned the existence of the Pylon Appreciation Society before. However, now I discover there is also a Pylon of the Month website. I'm not averse to taking a photograph or two of pylons where they present some photographic interest. But in general I look forward to the day (it won't be in my lifetime unfortunately) when the need for such monstrosities no longer exists and mankind finds a less intrusive way of distributing power.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 95mm (142mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Just a couple of sunsets

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Just?! There's nothing just about a sunset! It surely counts among the most wonderful sights that the planet earth can offer. Imagine how much poorer we would be if the sky no longer turned to fire, if clouds ceased to be tinged by red, orange, pink and purple. Consider losing the transformative effect that a sunset can bring to the grimmest urban scene, the most unremarkable suburban streetscape or an over-regimented, industrialised, agricultural landscape. Think for a moment about how rivers, lakes, west facing coastlines, even humble puddles, would no longer be able to double the power of the fiery sky with their reflections. Or how we would no longer feel that familiar thrill as we stopped and stared at the sky, watching as the colours start to build to a blazing climax then subside to a glimmer, a mere memory of what has come and gone.

I've said elsewhere that seeing a sunset, any sunset, is like seeing one for the first time. It dazzles the eye and lifts the spirits. I felt that way the other afternoon as we had a late walk round the village and the clouds turned first pink and yellow, then a deeper orange and red. It came upon us as we were on some of the plainer streets, away from the church, the stream and the big trees of the village's picturesque centre. But that didn't matter; the transformation took place regardless. After taking my fill of the spectacular sunset I took a couple of shots to remember it by.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: crop of 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Another view of fog

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Today's photograph was taken about seventy yards from and a few minutes before the shot in the previous post. And, where that image was captured with the sun behind me, this one was taken contre jour. That fact, the nature of the subject and the conversion of an essentially monochrome colour photograph into very definite black and white has resulted in this image acquiring a quite different mood. The previous shot has a slightly melancholic touch but it's essentially neutral, wistful or even slightly upbeat with the intrusion of that warming sunlight. However, here the stark gravestones silhouetted against the misty west end of the church is loaded with associations that, I can't help thinking, are largely the result of certain writers and a whole slew of horror and mystery films.

People such as Edgar Allen Poe and Charles Dickens knew that there is nothing like a fog or mist to evoke a feeling of cold, menace or fear. Think of Pip and Magwitch in the misty Kent marshes in the 1946 version of "Great Expectations". Better yet think back to how Guy Green, the Oscar winning cinematographer on that film depicted the scenes, and how influential his work was for succeeding generations of film makers such as John Carpenter. And then consider how these images have affected how the man or woman in the street views a misty churchyard. From Bram Stoker's "Dracula" to the latest teen horror, the combination of fog and a graveyard have become, in the popular mind, synonymous with supernatural dread. Of course, none of this influenced me in any way as I carefully composed and processed this photograph. Really. Just as it wasn't a factor in this photograph of a "House of Correction" or this one of a ruined church. Honestly!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 18.9mm (51mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Private schools and song thrushes

click photo to enlarge
The other day I walked past the scene shown in this photograph and fell to thinking. My first thought centred on the song thrush that was singing its heart out from the top of a roadside tree even though it was ten minutes to eleven in the evening. Was this, I wondered, due to the fact that light remained in the sky or was it because of the street lights' illumination? Perhaps it was the combination of the two light sources that prompted its nocturnal canticle.

My second thought was one of despair. How long, I wondered, will our country have to suffer the dead weight of private education delivered by our so-called public schools? Is there no political party prepared to look at the clear evidence that private education not only impedes our country's economic progress through the values that it imparts, is one of the main causes of inequality that affects the rich every bit as much as the poor, and is a form of schooling that doesn't even deliver the educational goods that it professes to offer? One would imagine that a socialist party would give some thought to the issue, but no. You'd also think that parties of the right that espouse market values and a "survival of the fittest" culture would have no truck with a school system that produces students with inflated examination qualifications (see the link between average quality of university degree achieved by pupils of state and public schools with the same school examination grades), or that promotes advancement through socio-economic selection and networks rather than ability. But no, our private public schools continue to flog their wares to the well-heeled, the buyers and sellers profit, and the country continues to suffer from their self-interest.

The domed chapel shown in silhouette was completed in 1901. It serves Giggleswick School, "a co-educational boarding and day school", that charges fees to educate pupils. It is one of the many private educational establishments that I think our country would do well to dispense with for the better education and prosperity of all.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 37.1mm (100mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.9
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fleet church and the via mirabilis

click photo to enlarge
A recent unusual and unwelcome bout of illness saw me more house-bound than usual, taking no photographs, and consequently using up my reserve of shots of postable quality. So, I've done what I usually do when my well of current images runs dry; I've looked through those that I previously classified as "possibles" and have selected a few of those for posting.

Today's offering shows the fourteenth century church of St Mary Magdalen at Fleet, a church in the Decorated style, a building of great grandeur, with a detached tower and spire. The A17 road from Sleaford to King's Lynn has  been described as "the via mirabilis...the finest procession of churches in England." A list of all the medieval buildings worthy of a visit on or near this highway is very long but highlights would include Ewerby, Asgarby, Heckington, Helpringham, Swineshead, Sutterton, Algarkirk, Holbeach, Fleet, Gedney, Long Sutton, Terrington St Clements and Tilney All Saints. Indeed, the start of that route is so rich in churches that the old Murray's "Handbook" for Lincolnshire records that, "from almost any church tower near Sleaford fifteen or twenty spires can be counted."

I took this photograph of Fleet church at the end of a winter's day, after the sun had slid below the horizon, before any stars could be discerned, and as the chill of oncoming night signalled an end to photography. I liked the way the man-made, disciplined silhouette of the church contrasted with the waywardness of the skeletal trees. From the position that I took the photograph it looks as if Fleet church has a traditional west tower. However, the smaller shot, taken a few years ago, shows that this is not the case and reveals the campanile to be one of the few medieval examples in Lincolnshire that is completely detached from the rest of the building.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 75mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The threatened ash tree

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The sea that separates the British Isles from continental Europe is generally thought of, by the inhabitants of these islands at least, as a blessing, a defensive moat that kept Napoleon and Hitler at bay, has stopped rabies from becoming widespread here, and prevents European integrationism from too deeply affecting our idiosyncratic ways. However, a longer view must also record how, when the ice ages covered our islands in glaciers, sending the wildlife south to escape its deadly touch, the thaw that followed and the North Sea and English Channel that it created and which separated our islands from Europe, also prevented the return of many plants and animals. Thus, fallow deer were present before the last glaciation, but did not return after it, the present herds all being introduced animals. As many school children used to know, the adder made it back to England, Scotland and Wales, but it wasn't St Patrick who banished it from Ireland, but rather the inundation that became the Irish Sea prevented it reaching that country.

However, in these days of regular international and inter-continental travel, when goods are shipped around the world with barely a thought, and when companies source products from whoever can provide them at the lowest price, the narrow stretch of sea that was once seen as a formidable barrier, is today a mere ditch that can be stepped across at will. Ash dieback disease, the Chalara fraxinea fungus that was first seen in Eastern Europe twenty years ago, which has spread rapidly across the continent, badly affecting the ash trees of Germany, France and elsewhere, and has affected 90% of Danish ash trees, is now spreading in Britain. There is some debate over whether it was brought in solely on imported saplings or whether it also arrived on the wind from across the narrow North Sea. But, it seems widely agreed that it is here, it can't be eradicated, only slowed in its progress, and it will have a major effect on our hedgerows and woodlands, as well as on the wildlife that favours this particular species. Current thinking suggests that the best course of action is to leave trees to die naturally, to identify those individual trees that seem to be resistant, and to begin a breeding programme to produce new plants from them.

This depressing business was on my mind as I processed today's photograph. I didn't notice when I took the shot, but it features a young ash tree. Five and half percent of British woodland trees are ash, but 12 million grow elsewhere, particularly in hedgerows. It is the second most commonly seen individual tree (after the oak). I read that in Lincolnshire and East Yorkshire combined the ash accounts for 40 percent of the trees. A loss of such magnitudes would be devastating nationally and locally.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Glass blocks and connections

click photo to enlarge

Earlier this year we visited Peterborough Museum. It had re-opened after undergoing a refurbishment and very interesting it was too. The building itself started life in 1816 as a fine Georgian mansion but its time as a private residence was relatively short-lived because in 1857 it became the city's first hospital, a role that it fulfilled until 1928. The operating theatre from those days remains and is now an exhibit within the museum. When we entered that room with its white tiled walls, sinks, stainless steel and utilitarian atmosphere I was reminded, fairly appropriately I thought, of some late Victorian and early twentieth century butchers' shops. The easily cleaned surfaces from which blood could readily be swilled were very similar. The other thing that came to mind was the kind of clinical-looking modern kitchens that fill the pages of some magazines.

Connections of this kind are a very strong influence on what people buy and on how they view things. For example, I could never buy a pair of grey trousers because they would remind me too much of the uniform that I had to wear as a schoolboy. It was associations and how they affect how we see the world that came to mind on a recent visit to Water's Edge, Barton upon Humber. This fairly new Lincolnshire building combines a visitor centre and offices on land next to the River Humber. It is an aggressively modern design that, in places, makes use of glass blocks (sometimes called glass bricks). I've written elsewhere in this blog about my liking for these blocks. At Water's Edge they have been used to form short sections of north-facing walls. The regular grid, subdued light transmission, and translucence that simplifies the outside view making it a semi-abstract experience, drew the photographer in me. I took a shot of the wall, then realising that the irregularity of the human form would make a good contrast to the regularity of the grid, I asked my wife to stand in front of it.

As we wandered off to take shots of the Humber Bridge I reflected once more that there isn't enough use made of these blocks in Britain, and perhaps that's associational. They found some use in the 1950s, often in places such as bus stations, public toilets, the stairwells of flats and such like. Less often were they used in private houses (except determinedly modern higher cost examples) or for their decorative qualities rather than their utility. Perhaps those early uses coloured people's view of glass blocks and that memory will have to fade before they can be more widely adopted.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 36mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Living with vapour trails

click photo to enlarge

One recent cold and frosty morning, as I went out into the garden to feed the birds, I chanced to look up and saw a curving vapour trail that was being made by an aircraft heading away from me. It was an odd route for a four-engined jet to be on, and as I studied the sky I noticed the remnants of a couple more such trails slowly de-materialising. Looking closer to the horizon I could see more curved trails whose positions suggested they were part of the same trails nearer to me: clearly one or more aircraft was flying in large circles over Lincolnshire and the nearby sea.

Some of the bigger RAF bases are in the county so unusual vapour trails are a common sight. However, it was immediately clear to me that there was only one four-engined military aircraft that would deliberately fly in circles, at great height. I took a pair of binoculars outside to get a better look and my suspicion was confirmed: a Boeing Sentry AEW1 (AWACS) with its large radome slowly revolving above it was flying in a circle that must have been twenty, thirty or perhaps more miles in diameter. It was clearly participating in some kind of exercise, monitoring and controlling other aircraft and perhaps shipping or land forces below. Either that or we were being invaded!

In one of my first blog posts (actually the eighth, in December 2005) I sounded off about vapour trails, calling them, as far as a photographer is concerned, aerial graffiti, and suggesting that "only rarely do they add something to the image." My view of them hasn't changed since then. I find them an unwanted intrusion much more often than they are an element that I want to include in a composition. But, I have made a few images where vapour trails are, I think, key to their success. This landscape and this semi-abstract of a fairground ride are a couple that come to mind.

However, vapour trails, I discovered recently, aren't always so obviously intrusive. In saying that I'm not referring to those that are so dishevelled that they look like clouds. A few days ago, after I'd taken a speculative shot of the moon through some nearby ash trees and a veil of thin cloud, I noticed near the bottom of the brighter part of the photograph, a wavy vapour trail. As I studied it I reflected that you aren't even free of the wretched things when you're photographing at night!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/10 sec
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Lynn Ferry

click photo to enlarge
In the UK there has been, for many years, a discernible drift away from the principle of narrowing the gulf in weath between the poorest, least advantaged in society and the well-off by taxing the latter and redistributing the money to the former. This approach was universally supported by all the major political parties for a long period after the Second World War. However, for the past thirty or so years the Conservatives have sought, through their policies, quite the opposite; to transfer resources from the poor and the middle classes to the richer sections of society, business, commerce and the City. The recent financial crisis has allowed them to accelerate what they are doctrinally disposed to favour under the guise of "necessity." The Labour party during its time in government, though making some efforts at redistribution, were so half-hearted that the effect was nowhere near what was possible given their duration in office and the resources that they commanded. Today's Liberal Democrats will have to speak for themselves on this matter because I find it very difficult to discern what, if any, principles they now espouse.

Part of the problem is that politics and politicians have eschewed principles and philosophy in favour of managerialism. Dealing with immediate issues has become an end in itself rather than a means of achieving a vision. The problem with most managers, of course, is that they know the price of everything but the value of nothing. So, instead of universal provision and the equalising across the country of the prices of essential items such as utilities, healthcare and transport in the interests of affordability for all, but especially the less well off in society, we are seeing the growth of regional pricing structures, the decline of cross-subsidisation and unitary pricing.

One consequence of all this is that enterprises such as the Lynn Ferry (see photograph) that regularly crosses the River Great Ouse to link the small, relatively deprived community of West Lynn with the large market town of King's Lynn face the possibility of a loss of subsidy at a time when its users face declining incomes. The ferry subsidy is £25,000 per year which allows the operators to charge fares of 80p single and £1.40 return (reduced to 60p and £1.00 for children). There is a need for fares to remain competitive with the cost of either driving round by the nearest bridge and paying for a parking space or using an infrequent bus service. More than that, there is every reason to ensure that the residents of West Lynn remain in regular contact with the major part of their community, one that they can almost reach out and touch. And, there is a need to recognise that West Lynn grew, in part because of the existence of the river ferry and to cause its closure would be iniquitous.

I photographed the ferry landing on the King's Lynn side of the river at low tide. Unfortunately the number of passengers doesn't make my case very well - two young girls heading for town and a woman crossing to West Lynn. I've tried for this silhouette shot before (when passenger numbers have been higher), but this is my best attempt so far.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The Observatory Cafe

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I'd never been into the cafe at "The Deep" aquarium in Kingston upon Hull until a few days ago. Moreover, until we headed up to it I didn't know that it was called "The Observatory Cafe". When I got there the view of the River Humber, the River Hull, the waterside buildings and the distant shore of Lincolnshire, showed that it was well named. However, as I sat and drank my cup of tea, gazing down through the angled windows, and studying my surroundings, it occurred to me that it wasn't as well named as it could have been.

I imagine the architect envisaged diners looking out at the view and pointing out the passing river traffic. But, the days when this scene would always have had a ship or boat heading up or downstream are long past. The focus of shipping in the port of Hull is now downstream (left) of this view. One or two small craft use the River Hull, yachts and launches moored in the marina venture out at reasonably regular intervals, the occasional small vessel from the Port of Goole passes, and the docks that remain open upstream (right) of the view generate the odd craft. But the fish docks that would have sent deep-sea trawlers regularly past this point are virtually silent, and the smaller commercial traffic of the adjacent docks, has almost vanished.

There's nothing wrong with "The Observatory" as a name for this location, but it seemed to me that "The Bridge" (of either a trawler, a liner or some futuristic starship) was more appropriate. Looking at my photograph on the computer screen only reinforced this feeling. I was in two minds whether or not to turn this almost monochrome image into a black and white shot, but the blue/green tinted glass and the muted colours that just about make themselves felt gave it a quality I liked, so I stayed with colour.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Reeds at sunrise

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Reeds were once one of the dominant plants of the Lincolnshire Fenlands. Around the margins of permanent meres and seasonal pools the Phragmites australis grew tall and lush. Reed and sedge warblers churred their coarse song perched on its stalks; moorhen, water rail, bittern and heron stalked around its roots, eating the plentiful insects, fish, and frogs; and water voles and other small mammals built their homes among them. During the Middle Ages the reeds provided a valuable roofing material, and thatched cottages can still be found so covered, though today they are more likely to use Norfolk reeds or straw.

The draining of the Fens and the turning over of the land to arable agriculture saw a drastic reduction in the acreage of reed beds. Today, with a few exceptions such as wildlife reserves, reeds are most commonly seen lining the natural and artificial streams and dykes that criss-cross the fields. Here, on a more limited scale, they still offer sanctuary to wildlife, and on my walks I regularly see sedge warblers, reed buntings, little egrets and other birds amongst them. In the early evening I can watch barn owls patrolling the grid of reed-lined water-ways, hoping to surprise a water vole, shrew or mouse: occasionally marsh harriers can be observed doing the same during daylight hours.

The character of reeds changes over the year. In spring and summer they are a fine, fresh green, but in autumn they turn a khaki brown. Some - for reasons not known to me - have a quite strong orange colour in October and November. Today's photograph shows reeds by the side of a stream near my house. I photographed them on a cold December morning shortly after the sun had risen, catching their delicate silhouettes against the clouds that were tinged with pink, orange and yellow.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 7.4mm (35mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

St Mary & the Holy Rood, Donington

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Today's photograph shows a view across the fields near Donington, Lincolnshire, at the tail end of a late December afternoon as the sun is about to disappear below the horizon. The ground and roofs are covered with hard frozen snow, and silhouetted against the sunset glow are skeletal trees and the tower and spire of the church of St Mary and the Holy Rood.

To my knowledge this dedication is unique to Donington church. There are St Marys a-plenty, and quite a few Holyroods (notably in Edinburgh), but no other church seems to have this particular conflation of names. The word "rood" means crucifix or cross. Medieval churches frequently separated the nave (where the people congregated) from the chancel (where the clergy officiated) with a pierced wooden "rood screen", so called because it was surmounted by a representation of Christ on the cross. Many of these old screens survive today, though usually without the rood, and quite a few churches have newer, Victorian examples (complete with rood). That being the case, you might imagine that Donington church's dedication makes reference to this symbol of the Christian faith. And doubtless it does. But in what way? It could simply be an honouring of the principal icon of Christianity. Or, and I think this is more likely, the early medieval building may have held a "fragment of the True Cross" as a relic with which to attract visitors and donations of money. Many early churches displayed holy relics - fragments of saints' clothes, a lock of their hair, a bone or two, a scrap of Christ's shroud, or an old piece of wood reputed to have been brought back from the Holy Land and "definitely a piece of the cross on which our Saviour died, and yours for only a few gold sovereigns father!" Few, if any, of these can have been genuine relics, but many would have been acquired in good faith. I don't know if this is the case at Donington, but it would account for the rood getting second billing to Christ's mother in the dedication.

Donington church is a large and beautiful building that dates back to the 1100s, though much of what we see today is from the 1300s and 1400s. It was one of the sources of inspiration that Victorian Gothic architects looked to when they began to build again in this style. Like many of our old churches it needs constant attention to keep its fabric together, and it is currently undergoing some restoration. If anyone feels able to donate to this worthy cause this website tells you how to go about it.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On