A Decorated arcade

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Existing words are often appropriated by special interest groups to describe something new. Today's photograph is a good example of that. When Thomas Rickman devised his stylistic classification of the periods of English Gothic architecture he came up with the terms Early English, Decorated and Perpendicular to describe the three main styles (as he saw them) between the end of the round-arched Norman (Romanesque) period and the beginnings of the English Renaissance; roughly c.1190 to the early to mid-sixteenth century. Decorated, with or without the capital D, was an existing word with a widely understood, non-specific meaning. But Rickman chose it to describe the ogival forms and naturalistic carving that followed the geometrical, stern precision of the  Early English style.

Today's photograph shows blank arcading in the porch of the medieval church at Osbournby, Lincolnshire. The cusped, "S"-shaped pointed arches (usually called ogee or ogival) are characteristic of the Decorated period and date the work to the fourteenth century. It's quite unusual to have the expense of this kind of decorative carving in the porch of a village church: it is more often reserved for the sedilia in the chancel. The word "arcade", as it happens, is also one that has been appropriated for a variety of uses. It originally meant an arch or a succession of arches, so to describe what we see in the photograph in that way is correct. But, later centuries applied it to covered shopping areas with arched, glazed roofs and later still indoor seaside "amusements" with slot and video games used the term.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:4000
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Grass fields and droves

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When you move to a new part of the country you immediately notice accents and dialect words because, despite the long, dominating presence of TV and radio, and the fact that people move from place to place much more than formerly, regional differences are still evident. And we should be glad that they do because they enrich our experience and provide a link with a past that will, in all probability, eventually disappear.

I've got used to Lincolnshire women I've never met before calling me "ducks" and the way in which words containing the letter "u" are pronounced: computer isn't "compyouter" but "compooter" and the DIY chain isn't B&Q (Bee and Queue) but Bee and Coo! I've also reconciled myself to the fact that in south Lincolnshire the pastures are "grass fields" and that many roads are "droves". However, that field description still puzzles me. I know that over the past century sheep and cattle farming has declined in the county and arable has become dominant, but was the term pasture, a word widely used across Britain, never used in Lincolnshire? Drove rather than road is easier to understand. The roads so named usually lead from settlements into the lower surrounding fens, areas that in the past were poorly drained, used less in winter and wetter weather, and which must have seen much organised "droving" of sheep and cattle to and from the drier land as season and precipitation dictated.

Today's photograph was taken on a recent late afternoon. It shows a grass field that was sown a few years ago to provide fodder for cutting and feeding rather than for the pasturing of animals. The second growth of grass had a beautiful texture and a delicate yellow tinge in the afternoon light, a quality that contrasted with the blue tinged clouds and sky as well as the detail of the distant drove road marked by its collection of trees, farm buildings and a few houses.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11.5mm (31mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation:  -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Axes and wood

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I'm not, in general, someone who likes familiar slang, particularly that which applies to a line of work, an interest or a hobby. Hearing someone describe a BMW as a "Beamer" irritates me in much the same way as hearing the likes of Jamie Oliver use the terms "slosh" (for pour) or "chuck" for sprinkle does. I've never liked the way some enthusiast photographers refer to lenses as "glass" (surely they are so much more than that). And as for rock musicians calling an electric guitar an "axe": well, that irks me just as much as the modern habit of calling a university a "uni". All these examples seem, to my mind to conflate a certain laziness with an overly chummy and "insider" familiarity that is often designed, in some small way, to erect fences to outsiders.

It was the term "axe", meaning an electric guitar that came to mind when I came to write this piece about a new guitar that I recently bought. I presume that "axe" derives from the shape of the guitar, or perhaps the sharp sound - who knows or cares? However, since it was the wood of this particular guitar that I was going to describe "axe" seemed to have some sort of connection. Many musical instruments have interesting and beautiful shapes that derive, in the main from the way they work - form really does, usually, follow function. However, many are enhanced during construction by the use of wood, application of paint, inlays and so on, and none more so than electric guitars. Moreover, though the sound is what you most want from such an instrument, appearance is also a factor when you come to buy one.

The example in today's photograph doesn't have the usual paint job, sunburst staining or varnished finish. Instead it has a burred (burled in US-English) poplar top that I find unusual and attractive. This is mounted on mahogany and the instrument is completed with a maple neck and a rosewood fingerboard. With a veritable forest of timber having fallen under the axe to produce it I must make sure I keep it a long time and get the most from it

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon 5D Mk2
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/13 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off.

Hither and thither and morning coffee

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Though the language police would wish otherwise, language changes. Over time spelling and grammar are modified by use. New words are introduced, existing words take on new or additional meanings and old words are cast aside. I was thinking about this the other day when, in a slightly self-conscious manner, I used the phrase "hither and thither". These two words, both singly and in this pairing, are rarely heard today; they sound old-fashioned, the sort of language you'd come across in Shakespeare or in the novels and poetry of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

The context for my use of the phrase was an explanation to someone that we'd been travelling about a lot in recent weeks and consequently much of my photography during this time had been done beyond the confines of Lincolnshire. As I uttered the phrase, I made a mental note to try and find out whether "hither and thither" was ever in widespread use and, if so, when it became replaced by "to this place and that" or, more colloquially, "here and there". A bit of research produced no satisfactory answer to the question. Most of what I discovered came from the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) and from that source I was interested to find the words had more meanings than I knew.

The word, "hither" has its origins and equivalents in Old English,Old Norse and the Germanic language. "To or towards this place" (now "here") is its principal meaning. However, it was also used to mean, "to, or or on this side of", "up to this point in time", "to this end" and "in this direction". A United States variant is, apparently, "Hither and yon" (or yond). The earliest recorded use of the phrase as I used it (though with somewhat different spelling), dates from the early A.D.700s. "Thither" has a similar lineage to hither, as does "whither" ("to what place" or "where").

One of our recent "hithers" (or was it a "thither") was London. Whilst there I visited the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, and took this photograph of people taking morning coffee. The bird's-eye-view of the tables and chairs, the subtle colours and raking light that produced elongated shadows, appealed to me and so it became the subject of one of my better photographs taken at that location.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14.2mm (38mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO: 125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Peacocks beautiful, proud and noisy

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The Indian Peafowl, the male of which is commonly known as the peacock, is one of the avian world's most brightly coloured members. The electric blue of its body and the iridescent blues and greens of the "eyes" of its tail are very striking. The peacock's shape and the details of its tail have been used in art and design down the centuries, in Europe particularly during the period of Art Nouveau. Moreover, though it is native to India, its popularity is such that it can now be found in virtually every country of the world, often in parks and gardens as well as zoos. In Britain it is frequently found strutting around stately homes or clamouring for attention in collections of birds in wildlife parks. People frequently cite it as their favourite bird or name it the most beautiful of birds.

I can see good qualities in the peacock but it wouldn't feature in even my top 50 favourite birds. I don't think I'm alone in not sharing the general liking of the species, though the naysayers and doubters are very much a minority. If you are someone who wonders why anyone could find fault with this magnificent bird consider this: the word "peacock" can be used as a term of disapprobation, often applied to over-dressed men indulging in what the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) calls "vainglorious display". Such a development surely suggests that some see these qualities in the bird and feel it is useful to purloin the word for that purpose. Whether it's fair to anthropomorphise in this way I leave to you to decide, but clearly not everyone is persuaded by the peacock's magnificent tail and the eye-catching colour.

However, people often acquire likes and dislikes through circumstances peculiar to themselves; that is to say, for reasons that are unlikely to be shared by someone else. So it is with me. Many years ago my wife and I were cycling along a quiet country lane past a farm. Suddenly our ears were unexpectedly assaulted by the piercing cry of a bird only a few feet away that was standing on a wall, at the same height as our heads. It was, of course, a peacock, one we hadn't noticed because of the low hanging branches of the trees. We nearly jumped out of our saddles, such was the explosive force of the unexpected call. Ever since that day I have associated peacocks and their distinctive call with that heart-stopping moment. It is responsible for my enduring negative opinion of the bird.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

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

Wondering about words

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In a newspaper article I was reading the other day the journalist used the word "phoney" meaning false. Not unusual you might think, but it was a British journalist and I always understood phoney to be a U.S. word. That in itself isn't so unusual because English words travel both ways across the Atlantic to take up permanent residence each of the two main variants of English. However, it did prompt me to look up the word "phoney" in my Oxford English Dictionary (OED). It reported, unhelpfully, "Of uncertain origin", though it did note the word's origins in the United States. It was then, as sometimes happens, that a dim light came on in the recesses of my brain and I recalled the word "fawney". This word, I remembered, was British eighteenth century slang for "fake". A gilt ring being passed off as real gold was often described as fawney. Undoubtedly, I thought, there is a connection. And sure enough the web produced several references to the origins of U.S. phoney in British fawney. Can the OED, I wonder, verify this? For all I know it has already done so; after all my edition, like me, is getting on a bit.

The derivations of words popped into my head again as I was processing this photograph of dried Physalis franchetii that had been cleverly and effectively placed in the fireplace of a room in an old museum. The colloquial name for this plant is Chinese Lanterns after the similarity between the dried flowers and the Asiatic paper lanterns. It then occurred to me that there was a further interesting word that could be applied to the flowers when arranged in a fireplace - "flamboyant". Today this word usually means showy, colourful or florid, and wouldn't necessarily be thought especially applicable to this photograph. However, it derives from the French word for "flame" and originally meant flame-like in either shape or colour. Architectural historians use the word in this way, describing the flame-like tracery of Gothic windows as being in the Flamboyant Style. In the nineteenth century, both in Britain and the United States, the word was applied to things that had the colour of flames too. Consequently, it seemed to me unusual, but not unreasonable, to describe today's photograph with the words I chose.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Hebe, ambrosia and shrubs

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As far as I can see Greek mythology doesn't figure much in the education or interests of school children today. Yet when I was a child we were taught quite a bit about the subject, including some of the best known stories, and this made us (well, certainly me) want to know more. Alexander Pope said that "a little learning is a dangerous thing", and it certainly can be. However, in the case of me and Greek mythology it proved to be one of the catalysts that inspired a love of words and their origins.

It all started with "Ambrosia" creamed rice, a tinned rice pudding from Devon that first came on the market just before the second world war and was a family staple in the 1950s and 1960s. I discovered that the Greek gods fed on ambrosia and that Zeus and Hera received it (with nectar) from their daughter. It didn't take much research to discover that their ambrosia was unlikely to be the kind with which I was familiar, but the derivation of the rice pudding's name was something I found very interesting.

What has all this to do with a shallow depth of field photograph of a sprig of the plant, Hebe "Red Edge", I hear you ask. Well, the name of the daughter of Zeus and Hera was Hebe. She was the goddess of youth and cup-bearer to the gods until she married Heracles (Hercules to the Romans). When, later in life, I again came across the name Hebe it wasn't in connection with mythology but rather as a very useful, usually hardy, evergreen shrub that originated in New Zealand and South America, one that usually did well in the sort of coastal environment where I was living at the time. It's a plant I've always liked, and a variety that I particularly appreciate is the one shown in today's photograph. The blue-green of the leaf sits well with the red-purple of the leaf edges and makes it an attractive plant all year round. I was photographing our wych hazel when the very structured branches of opposing leaves caught my eye. I composed this shot to hint at the structure and clearly reveal the tip. Incidentally, I have no idea why this particular name was applied to this genus of plant!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm macro
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO: 200 Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Avenues

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The word "avenue" in English originally comes from the French avenir and Latin advenire, to come to or to approach. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the word was often spelt, "advenue", and in the eighteenth century "a'venue" was used. The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) records the first use of "avenue" meaning "approach" in a piece dating from 1639. However, by the eighteenth century the definition of the word that we use today - an approach or road lined with trees - was widely accepted. The United States seems to have modified its usage of the word to mean any fine, wide street, but in Britain trees are usually implied by "avenue".

The habit of lining a street, road or entrance driveway with trees to give it an enhanced status is a practise of long standing. It is a feature seen in the grounds of most large English country houses. Towns and cities with streets of eighteenth and and nineteenth century foundation often have such trees and feature the word "avenue" in their name. Municipal parks of the Victorian and Edwardian period usually have avenues, and the rare park of eighteenth century date, such as that at King's Lynn, frequently have them too. Go to the municipal cemetery- usually a nineteenth century creation - and here too you will find a tree lined road leading from the main entrance or to the chapel.

We recently, for the first time, walked into the cemetery at Boston, Lincolnshire, and found here a fine, imposing avenue leading from the entrance gatehouse to the chapel. Unusually it had a mixture of trees rather than being restricted to one or two species. Pines stood alongside beech and lime, with the deciduous trees shedding their leaves on the tarmac and gravestones below. we didn't venture far into the cemetery - that exploration can wait for a later date - but I lingered long enough to see two men come into view at the bottom of the avenue, figures to give some scale to my symmetrical shot down the roadway.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 1000
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Apothecaries, memorials and words

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I've long been fascinated by the way that a word can fall out of use. In a blog post of  2009 I reflected on the demise during my lifetime of "aerodrome", "palings" and "petticoat". Today I've been thinking about another word that is much less used than formerly - "apothecary".

Walk down a high street today and you are very unlikely to see a shop sign advertising the services of an apothecary. However, had you trod the same route in the 1700s or 1800s such a business could well have been present. The nearest we get today to the apothecary of those centuries is the dispensing chemist or pharmacist. The first apothecaries in Britain were grocers specialising in non-perishable commodities such as preserves, wine, spices, herbs, medicinal drugs etc. In 1617 the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries was established in London following a split from the Grocers. They established a hall in Blackfriars, and until 1922 manufactured and sold pharmaceutical products there. In 1704 the Society won an important legal decision against the Royal College of Physicians which allowed them to prescribe and dispense medicines, an action that led to apothecaries evolving into practitioners of medicine as we know them today. And yet, despite this complicated background history, today most people who know the term "apothecary" associate it with the dispensing of medicine rather than the deployment of general medical skills.

Today's photograph commemorates the death in 1780, at the young age of thirty one years, of John Rugeley, an apothecary of Folkingham, Lincolnshire. Apparently he died of "the fever" - which one I don't know. His attractive slate tablet displays the florid script, flourishes and motifs that can be seen on many such memorials in this part of the county, here the work of "Casswell, Sculpt." It can be found in the village on the wall of the south aisle of St Andrew's church.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/15
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On