Cinema and birds

click photo to enlarge

The Majestic cinema in King's Lynn opened on 23rd May, 1928. This event is recorded in the building in a stained glass window. Anyone interested in the architectural history of Britain could easily guess that the decade in which it was built was the 1920s because the style and details simply shout it. The asymmetrically placed tower with a copper-covered dome, the brick with plentiful contrasting stone or concrete, the pared down Corinthian style of the pilasters at first floor level, and the Ionic of the ground floor arcades are familiar from countless town halls, public libraries and other civic buildings that feature a freely treated Jacobean-cum-Baroque style. Here the architects were the King's Lynn team of John Laurie Carnell and William Dymoke White.

Many cinemas of this era have closed and found other uses as bingo halls, carpet showrooms and such. It's good that the Majestic continues as a cinema. I've tried to photograph this building before without much success - it's in a group of fairly narrow streets. Today's prospects didn't look too good either with the sun low down behind the building. However, as I tried a few shots some scavenging gulls came swooping down to clean up someone's spilled take-away food and so I seized my moment and managed to place a couple of them in the empty space at top right.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Stained glass knights

click photo to enlarge

There is not as much medieval stained glass in England as might be expected. Many continental European countries that saw land warfare in WW1 and WW2 suffered great losses. Similarly, those that were the subject of heavy and systematic aerial bombing lost much in the major cities. England experienced no ground warfare, but was heavily bombed. However, though these major wars did destroy some of our remaining old stained glass they were not the main cause of its disappearance. That had happened much earlier in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

The Protestant Reformation produced national protestant churches that either replaced or complemented the existing Roman Catholic religion. Its clergy and congregations often saw stained glass as idolatrous. It did not fit with the new churches' ideas of what should be found in a building dedicated to worship. Consequently much was broken and disposed of, and much was sold. In England the Dissolution of the Monasteries following Henry VIII's assumption of the role of head of the church of England saw the deliberate destruction of monastic abbeys, priories, convents, friaries etc, with their wealth being seized by the crown and their property sold. In the following years zealots and iconoclasts before and during the English Civil War smashed yet more ancient glass in cathedrals and parish churches. But, this wanton destruction notwithstanding, today it is not unusual to come across re-assembled fragments, some whole windows and a few quite complete schemes.

Today's photograph shows part of a window, one of seven of the fourteenth century, in the chancel clerestory at Tewkesbury Abbey in Gloucestershire. The heraldry of the knights' surcoats suggests a date of around 1340. The families represented are, from left to right, Fitzroy, de Clare, le Despenser and Fitzhamon. It is thought that the donor was Eleanor de Clare (d.1337) and the scheme was supervised by her son, Hugh le Despenser. Most of this glass is original. Some re-assembled fragments can be seen in the shields of the four shapes across the bottom of the image. The windows were restored to their present beauty by Kempe & Co. in 1923-4.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 161mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing the commonplace

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One of the achievements of photography is to draw our attention to the commonplace - to the everyday, the banal, the humdrum, the mundane, call it what you will - that is part of everyone's experience. Some photographers devote their time to nothing else and produce work that the man in the street often characterises as dull, boring, prosaic, vapid - again, choose your own word. However, framing a selection of our everyday surroundings is a worthwhile undertaking because it allows us to see it afresh, "elevated" through the attention given to it by the act of photography. It's a process that helps us to better appreciate what we've previously taken for granted and can enlarge our understanding and appreciation of our surroundings. Of course one man's commonplace is another man's exotic: what an inhabitant of, say, the Gulf states sees as banal will be viewed as alien, almost otherworldly, by a North European, and vice versa.

I was reflecting on this as I took today's photograph. It shows a view of the edge of a smallholding seen from a narrow Fenland drove road. A couple of small oak trees, the last of their leaves still clinging on, frames part of the smallholder's plot that is ploughed and carries a small crop of brassicas. A couple of home-made bird scarers fashioned out of orange plastic sacks flutter over the vegetables. Beyond is a large field of brussel sprouts and on the horizon a village that is marked by a few houses, a low church tower and a cluster of trees. It's a scene of not a great deal enlivened by its contre jour character. But, I think it is as deserving of a photograph as anything else at which I point my camera.

Today's theme is one I've touched on before, as in the accompanying text to this photograph of a Lancashire seawall and this wet Fenland track.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Games, money, myopia and heritage

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Our government of political pygmies makes much of the need for cuts in public expenditure and the fact that, as far as the current financial crisis goes, "we're all in it together". However, virtually every day they do something that undermines these claims; that demonstrates it's the poor, women, the old, public sector workers, the marginalised and the cultural community who will bear the brunt of the spending cuts.

Last week the government shot themselves in their collective feet once again. Fearing that the opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympic Games might be a touch underwhelming compared with the efforts of previous Games they immediately sanctioned a further £41m taking the budget for this single short spectacle to over £80m. Then, turning their attention to security, decided to almost double that budget too - from £282m to £553m. If, like me, you see the Olympic Games as an optional, low importance expenditure, you can only gaze open-mouthed at the facile way in which sums of this magnitude are found and disbursed. Then wonder turns to anger when you consider what it might have been spent on.

I can think of countless more worthy recipients of £300+m but I'll mention just one. The body that channels public funding into helping to maintain our architectural heritage - including buildings such as the one shown in today's photograph - is called English Heritage. In October 2010 it had its grant cut by 32%. A reduction of that order is not so much a cut as an amputation. Surely, even the most myopic politician is capable of seeing that the few tens of millions it would take to restore the funding would generate revenue year on year from increased tourism. In fact, our politicians don't seem to understand the main reasons why visitors come to Britain and seem to think that the Olympic Games and their increased spending will be repaid by more tourists. Fat chance say I.

Today's image shows the porch on the west range at Castle Acre Priory in Norfolk. This religious site was was closed in 1537 and fell into disrepair and ruin. However it is still possible to see something of what it was from the extant walls, buildings and foundations. Much of the site dates from the late C11 and C12, with additions from each subsequent century until its demise. The porch is a relatively late building with a fine mixture of local styles represented on its facade.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 50mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Peterscourt, Peterborough

click photo to enlarge

As I've said elsewhere in this blog much of my photography is incidental. By that I mean the subjects that I photograph are the ones that present themselves to me as I go about my immediate locality and the wider world. So, when I set off on a pleasurable walk somewhere I take my camera and usually return home with some shots. If I go to explore a village, town or city my camera is pointed at anything that looks to be a suitable subject. It is unusual for me not to carry a camera when I'm out and about, and consequently the majority of the images in this blog were taken almost as a by-product of another activity.

However, every now and then I set my mind to photographing a specific subject. Or I shoot a subject and make a mental note to do so again in better or different light, weather or season. Today's photograph is an example of the latter. I've photographed Peterscourt before but only ever produced one shot (in September of this year) that I thought worthy of posting. It's a large brick building in Peterborough dating from 1856-64, the work of the eminent Victorian architect, Sir George Gilbert Scott. Peterscourt isn't a spectacular building, nor is it sufficiently feted to appear in many books about architectural history. Rather, it's one of those quietly competent,visually interesting, well-made buildings that can be found in most cities and which in their own undemonstrative way, grace our streets and make our passage through them a pleasanter experience.

I've struggled in the past to get a shot that shows the whole of the building. Parked vehicles, roadworks, the position of the sun and much else has conspired to get in the way. But, on a recent visit to Peterborough to do some Christmas shopping I took this shot in more favourable circumstances. It shows the asymmetrical nature of Peterscourt, the prominence given to the chimneys and dormers, the unassuming and functionally positioned main entrance and the dark brick detailing. Anyone interested in English architectural history will have noted the awkwardness of the white painted Georgian doorway within the Gothic, pointed arch of the entrance. Scott did not design the building this way. The doorcase was brought to the city from the London Guildhall when it was damaged during the second world war. Its prominent placement here detracts from Scott's overall conception but at least conserves an interesting piece of history.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Oysters and porter

click photo to enlarge

In recent years I've visited Borough Market in Southwark fairly regularly, often to grab something to eat or to have a drink. I've developed a particular liking for the pork, stuffing and apple sauce sandwiches from a stall that's been a regular fixture since I first went there. As a place to watch people, browse for food, listen to street musicians and generally soak up the character of London few places can beat this market and the surrounding streets.

However, one thing I have noticed, and found curious, is the way in which up-market eateries and high-price fast food joints in this part of London often affect a beat-up, artisan look. Places where a coffee costs £3 think that price will be more easily prised from the punter if the tables have an artfully battered look, the seating consists of communal benches and the decor harks back to what a costermonger of c.1910 might have experienced. Or so it seems to this provincial.

Take the oyster and porter house shown in today's photograph. There may have been a time when such an establishment used barrels instead of tables - but I doubt it. Yet today many people see this as desirable attribute, "authentic" in some way or other, and a reason for paying high prices. I think it most strange, but then I suppose I'm not the target market, either for the oysters or the barrels.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

An orrery

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I've said elsewhere that I welcome the increasing number of sculptures and monuments that the past twenty years or so has brought to the public spaces of Britain. Even when they are of no more than routine quality they often add a focus and some interest to a location. Good examples do more than that, of course, contributing high quality art and lifting not only the spirits of those who see them but also lifting the place and its surroundings. But what about the less than admirable examples? Few of these actually make a completely negative contribution but some leave you wondering what they do offer - or indeed, quite what they are.

I came across an example of the latter in the Market Place at Grantham in Lincolnshire recently. On first inspection the piece has something of Soviet era "heroic" sculpture about it, though it would need to be several times its actual size to be from those days. After further study it's clear that the big reflective ball rests on a polar axial mount and therefore probably represents the earth, and consequently the adjacent, smaller sphere must be the moon. Unless of course it's the sun and the earth. The visitor is left to suppose that it is here at all because the King's School, Grantham, is where Isaac Newton received several years of his early education, and the physical laws that he first stated are in some way referred to through the sculpture. If the sculpture had a descriptive panel all might be clear to the inquisitive viewer, but such a simple expedient seems to have been overlooked. A quick search online found the sculptor's site and his statement that it is "based on Sir Isaac Newton's First Law of Motion...celebrates his work", and takes "the form of an orrery". I also came across comments by local people, very critical of the piece which was, apparently, the most voted for of three offerings.

The fact is, this unexceptional piece is lost in the expanse of the market place, and when one finds it some of its limitations become more evident. Foremost, from a photographer's perspective, is the fact that the shiny ball that has the potential to nicely reflect the surroundings is marked by rain and anything else that falls from the sky and pigeons. It needs to be cleaned regularly, but doesn't seem to be. Consequently in my photograph it has had to be digitally cleaned to the best of my ability.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 82mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation:  -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Copper coloured leaves

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Quite a few plants have so-called "copper" leaf variants. One of the most noticeable in the UK is the copper beech tree.Usually seen as a single specimen, sometimes in the form of a hedge, its shiny brown leaves catch the eye when it's planted next to ranks of green leaved trees and shrubs, and it can bring welcome contrast and interest to a scene. But not always.

Sometimes you see a situation where people have been bitten by the copper leaf bug, and every third tree has them. Then the effect is gloomy and grim: darkness replaces the lightness of sun-dappled and translucent green leaves. The worst example I know of being seduced by copper-leaved trees can be seen on the perimeter of a large rural garden some miles from me. The owner has alternated dark conifers with copper-leaved trees. In spring and summer when other trees look at their best this row looks very depressing.

The other common copper-leaved tree is the maple. These can look great in spring, summer and autumn because of the way the leaves change and produce interesting hues. However, my feelings about them are coloured by the fact that I lived in a house where the neighbours' garden had one close by the boundary fence between us and them. Only when all the other trees had shed their leaves and they'd been collected would this maple drop its own: and then only if the wind was blowing towards my garden!

Plenty of smaller plants have copper variants. I particularly like the dark brown heuchera. I have some of these in my garden, as I do an example of that other favourite, the copper/red-leaved berberis (Berberis thunbergii atropurpurea). This plant looks great when its yellow flowers are alongside the leaves and also when the red berries are showing. But, it's late autumn when the leaves change colour that it looks at its most radiant. Then the red/brown disappears to be replaced by yellows, pinks, purples and almost-blues. When seen against a background of blue-green leaved plants these colours look magnificent.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

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

Rotten apples and Gothic novels

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Horror is one of the genres of film that I pass by. I can't take it seriously nor can I accept it as a tongue in cheek exercise. The plotting is often puerile, the acting awful and the photography feckless. Even where this isn't the case I'm invariably unwilling to suspend my disbelief. I feel the same about the Gothic novel too. Many years ago I read Horace Walpole's, "The Castle of Otranto" (1764), the novel that is credited with initiating this branch of fiction, and went on to Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" (1818), a few Edgar Allan Poe stories and sundry other examples of the type. My experiences didn't encourage me to look further, something you may find surprising in someone who spends so much time photographing Gothic architecture.

It's not the core elements of the Gothic novel - terror, death, gloom, decay, darkness etc - that I take issue with so much as the fact they are the centre and totality of the experience offered: there is no light against which to contrast the deep shade (to use a vaguely photographic metaphor). In fact, decay is something that I do like. That's perhaps not surprising since it is claimed to be a feature of the English psyche that recurs in literature, painting and architecture down the ages.

I've posted quite a few images of decay on the blog, for example these hydrangeas and water lilies, and I've even got a few involving death, such as these moles and a swan. Last November I photographed some windfall apples as they started to discolour. Today's photograph is another attempt at this subject, a little later in the year and with, perhaps, a little less focus on decay and a touch more on semi-abstract pattern making. I particularly liked the effect of the interloper willow leaf that had settled like an acute accent over the very decomposed apple on the right.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm (macro)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/80
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off

The Angel and Royal Hotel

click photos to enlarge

Several establishments claim to be England's oldest inn. The Old Ferryboat at St Ives, Cambridgeshire, proposes a date of 560AD and Ye Olde Fighting Cocks in St Albans says its origins go back to 795AD? Many would think the most ancient was Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem in Nottingham, a building that includes construction of  around 1189 and a cavern excavated in a cliff face. Today's photographs show The Angel and Royal Hotel at Grantham in Lincolnshire. The earliest date it claims is 1203 though cellars and foundations are reputed to stretch back to the 800s. So though decidedly venerable it probably can't be called the very oldest inn. However, what is indisputable is that there can be few with so much history attached to them as this Lincolnshire hostelry.

The building started life as a property of the Knights Templars during which time, in 1213, King John thought it would make a good stopping off point for his court during its tour of the country. Then the building came into the ownership of the Knights Hospitallers who, like the Templars, were known for offering hospitality to travellers. In the fourteenth century Edward III and his queen visited. The gilded angel holding a crown is said to be a tribute to his patronage. In 1483 Richard III stayed at the hotel and in the Chambre de Roi (now the King's Room Restaurant) set in motion the order for the execution of the Duke of Buckingham. Charles I stayed there in 1633 and in 1643 Oliver Cromwell was a visitor following his success in battle near Grantham. In the eighteenth century The Angel (as it was then known) became a notable coaching inn offering accommodation for travellers, including George IV, on the Great North Way. The name of the inn was changed to the The Angel and Royal after the visit in 1866 of the Prince of Wales. He later became Edward VII.

The main elevation of the building we see today is stone-faced, two storeyed, with bays, buttresses, a parapet, rather fine grotesques and gargoyles, and dates from the late 1400s. The central carriage arch is now glazed with doors. Above is an oriel window supported by the gilded demi-angel holding a crown. There is an eighteenth century extension to the left (out of shot), and internal rooms show details of, principally, the fifteenth, sixteenth and eighteenth centuries.

I took today's photographs after, on a cold and clear day, we'd eaten lunch in the King's Room below sagging beams next to a stone fireplace, warmed by a roaring fire.

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Southwark Cathedral chandelier

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Lanterns and chandeliers began to appear in churches from around 1600 to augment the candles and small oil lamps that had been used for centuries. The first, quite plain, English chandeliers were soon supplemented by more ornate models imported from Flanders. Drooping arms fixed to rings featured in seventeenth century examples and highly decorated finials were favoured at the top. By the eighteenth century they had become very ornate with scrolls, brass balls and often a flame as a finial, though doves were popular too: opened winged and feathered was the London style, closed winged and smooth if originating in Bristol.

The example shown in today's photograph is suspended under the crossing of Southwark Cathedral in London. It is inscribed, "The gift of Dorothye relict of Jno. Appleby Esqe to ye Parish Church of St Saviour Southwarke 1680" (the parish church of St Saviour was raised to cathedral status in 1905 though before the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1536 it was a priory - hence its large size). The design of this particular chandelier is quite forward looking and from a distance could be mistaken for one of the Georgian examples that are frequently to be seen in English parish churches.

The silhouette of the chandelier presented a fine shape to photograph in front of the illuminated Gothic vaulting of the nave. Anyone who has followed this blog's photography and discussion of vaulting might be forgiven for thinking it to be a fine example of Early English architecture, along with the lancet windows and the nave arcades, triforium and clerestory. However, they are the work of Arthur Blomfield and date from 1890-1897. Though quite a bit of Southwark Cathedral dates from medieval times successive fires have meant much rebuilding down the centuries and a visitor can glean quite a bit of enjoyment from working out what is original and what is later but in the Gothic style.

For a couple more of my photographs of chandeliers see here and here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/50
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Gotobed East

click photo to enlarge

First names, often called Christian names, originated in a number of ways. Many are simply descriptive. For example, Charles comes from the Germanic for "man", Thomas is the Greek form of the Aramaic word meaning "twin", and Adam derives from the Hebrew for "man" which in turn comes from the word for "ruddy coloured" and links to "earth" (from which, according to the Bible Adam, the first man, came). Names such as Decimus, Septimus and Octavia usually describe the owners position in the family (tenth, seventh or eighth born). Other first names are linked to the circumstances of birth. Boys born over the period of Christmas are often called Noel, and girls are sometimes called Felicity or Prudence in the parents' hope that those qualities will attach to them throughout life. Then there are the invented names such as Pamela (from Samuel Richardson's 1740 novel of  that title) or Wendy, a name that makes its first appearance in J.M. Barrie's 1904 play, "Peter Pan". Some first names are created by pressing surnames into service for that purpose, for example Kingsley, Remington or Wilson. I suspect this may be the case with the very unusual first name featured on the memorial in today's photograph.

A Google search for Gotobed used as a first name turns up only a few references to this particular memorial and the person remembered in it. It looks like Gotobed East may have been unique in the possession of this first name. However, search for the same name as a surname and many sources can be found. Gotobed East's memorial can be found fixed to a wall at Ely Cathedral in Cambridgeshire. This location would only have been open to a wealthy and well-connected individual, and his memorial shows him to have been that as a gentleman and an officer of the Bedford Level drainage body. On his death he "left to the churchwardens of Holy Trinity parish 5 cottages in Newnham, to be occupied by 5 aged widows of the said parish", so he was clearly a benevolent person too.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 32mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/13
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation:N/A

Underneath the arches

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"Underneath the arches I dream my dreams away,
Underneath the arches, on cobblestones I lay"
 from the song (1931) by Reg Connelly(?) and Bud Flanagan

Everything we experience in the first twenty or so years of our existence is imprinted on us more strongly than most of our experiences in later life. People can usually remember a clear sequence of events and years relating to childhood and youth. But, unless momentous things happened, they struggle to differentiate the years of, say, their forties or fifties. These are often the times where a repetitive  pattern is established centred on work and leisure with fewer variations or "first" events of the kind that dominate our formative years. We tend to remember places we visited, people we met, books we read, songs we heard and much else from our youth far better than the equivalents of later years because so many are things that happened for the first time in our lives.

When I was a child my father would often sing songs, either to amuse himself or for the benefit of his children. They weren't usually contemporary songs but were those of his own childhood and youth. I didn't know it at the time but a couple of his favourites were songs made popular by the British singing and comedy act, Bud Flanagan (1896-1968) and Chesney Allen (1893-1982). The duo were at the peak of their fame just before and during the second world war. Songs such as "Run, Rabbit Run" and "We'll Smile Again" were hugely popular. The two I remember my father singing were "Underneath the Arches" and "The Umbrella Man". Though I remember the words of the second song better it's the first that always comes to mind when I walk through railway arches as I often do on my walks along the South Bank of the River Thames in London.

Today's photograph shows the pedestrian tunnel under the south end of Southwark Bridge. It is a popular spot for buskers, one of whom can be seen packing up at the end of his day, and it is one of a sequence of such arches and tunnels in this area. The brick arch is much as it was when first built. However, the ground has been resurfaced and repaired many times, and the walls now carry engraved slate murals of the medieval frost fairs that were held on the frozen River Thames. The very contrasty nature of the subject made me think that black and white would be a good treatment for the subject though it does make the tunnel look a great deal gloomier and more sinister than it is.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2
Shutter Speed: 1/30
ISO:400
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Ely Cathedral

click photo to enlarge

The exterior of Ely Cathedral looks its best, in my opinion, from a distance of several miles as it rises above the small city on a low eminence in the flat Fenland landscape. To someone who is familiar with English cathedrals the exterior of Ely is a decided oddity, and the closer you get to it the odder it looks. A prominent west tower is common in a parish church but rare in a great church such as a cathedral, minster or abbey where the crossing tower usually dominates. The emphasis on embattled turrets rather than pinnacles is even rarer, suggesting a secular castle rather than a religious building. Ely didn't always look like it does today however. It too, like cathedrals across the land, once had a central crossing tower. But, in February 1322, the great Norman structure collapsed, probably due to the inadequacy of its foundations. In its place an octagonal lantern was erected, supported on stone, but constructed of oak, the whole structure making a bristling tower lower than the west tower and very different from the soaring culminations found elsewhere.

You may gather from this that I find the exterior of Ely lacking compared with say,York, Lincoln, Durham, Salisbury or, in fact, most other cathedrals. I do. That's not to say that it lacks interest, but for me the overall form of the building doesn't match the beauty of other major cathedrals. However, the collapse that led to the construction of the octagon produced on the interior one of the finest sights that any English cathedral can offer, one that brings distinction to the building and makes it a place worth going out of your way to see.

Today's main photograph and one of the secondary images show what your eyes behold when you pause below Ely's crossing and look up. At the top left is the painted roof of the very long Norman nave. Opposite, at the bottom right is the elaborate Gothic vaulting of the nave. The other two roofs cover the transepts. Windows fill the spaces between the eight stone piers and from the top of each of the latter spreads a fan of ribs that reach to each of the bottom edges of the octagon itself. This is painted with a ring of angels, has stellar vaulting with Christ on the centre, and the whole is ringed with stained glass that lights the space.

We made the journey to Ely on the back of a weather forecast that promised sun and cloud. The drab photograph of the west tower shows how accurate that was!

photographs and text (c) T. Boughen

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 2500
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation:N/A

Photography in the fog

click photo to enlarge

When I lived in Hull and the weather was foggy I often heard the sound of the ships' foghorns as they negotiated the River Humber into the port or went out into the North Sea. Living on the Lancashire coast I heard them occasionally: there were fewer ships, fog was infrequent, and technology had advanced compared with when I lived near the east coast. Now that I'm in Lincolnshire I experience more fog than in either of the other locations but I recall hearing a ship's foghorn only once. I suppose I'm too far from the sea and ships in The Wash are relatively few, smaller, and fairly quiet.

In common with much of eastern England we've recently had a few days of mist and fog and I've made a point of going out with my camera to see what I could snap. As I've said elsewhere in this blog, fog is one of those weather conditions - like snow - that transforms a landscape and allows the photographer to make very different images in very familiar surroundings. Unfortunately inspiration seemed to have deserted me on my forays into the gloom and I came back with very little that satisfies me. The two shots I post today are the best of my meagre pickings.

Certainly, to my mind, they don't compare with some of my earlier efforts such as this jetty and yacht, this tree, this cottage or this Fenland "view". The smaller of today's offerings shows a new footbridge over a dyke on a footpath near Donington. The main image is the west end of Donington church. This marvellous piece of medieval architecture has a very interesting west doorway. It dates from the fourteenth century and, unusually for a village church, has a projecting hood with an ogee arch that protects the inner arch and door. Time and weather have eroded the sharp details of this feature, but the sculpted leaves and other mouldings can still be discerned under its current generous covering of moss.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/500
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Charing Cross escalators

click photo to enlarge

Just over a month ago - October 4th to be precise - it was the 100th anniversary of the opening of the first escalator on the London Underground. The two machines that linked the Piccadilly and District/Circle Lines  underwent a one month trial period to establish their safety. They must have passed because between 1911 and 1915 another 22 were installed. Today the network has 422.

I've always been fascinated by the London Underground escalators. Although they all work on essentially the same principles and look pretty similar architects have frequently sought to inject difference through the surrounding architecture and decor. I was impressed by the totally stainless steel aesthetic of Canada Water station when I first saw it. Recently I passed the escalators at Charing Cross (above) and enjoyed their big circles and the mirrors that played tricks with the space. In fact, looking at these examples I felt transported into Fritz Lang's "Metropolis" or perhaps Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner". I definitely got the feeling that the architect (Terry Farrell) had been inspired by cinematic visions of the future when it came to the look at this station.

Incidentally, I'm the only person in this image with the time and inclination to stop, stand and stare. And perhaps one of a minority who was wondering whether it really is possible to fall down an up escalator for half an hour, as the old joke has it.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 1600
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Autumn at Deeping St James

click photo to enlarge

The other evening, with a friend, I gave a talk to a group in the village about photography. We divided the alphabet up between us and we each spoke about 13 of our own images (a couple with secondary images to support the main one). At one point I mentioned a quotation by Aaron Rose that I have always liked and which I first used very early in the life of this blog: "In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary". This observation makes the important point that light has the power to change things, even the most mundane, into objects of beauty and visual interest. I think the author and most people, me included, assume the quote is about the value of strongly directional light, and a lot of my photography - in fact quite a bit of every photographer's output - makes use of this kind of illumination.

However, as I've got older I've come to realise that every sort of light has qualities that can be used in photography, even the uninspiring flat light that is produced by a blanket of stratus cloud. Whereas hard, directional light makes for contrast, drama and in-your-face eye-catching qualities, diffuse, almost directionless light softens the scene, mutes everything and confers a quiet quality that can be very appealing in its own way. I blogged about this in connection with a photograph I took last year of some boats drawn up on the shingle beach at Aldeburgh, Suffolk. A couple of days ago similar light prevailed when I took this photograph of the River Welland at Deeping St James in Lincolnshire. I think it's not only the subject but also the light that gives the photograph some of the qualities that I admire in English landscape painting of the first half of the nineteenth century. Who knows, it may be a liking for the work of artists such as Crome, Cotman, Constable, Stark, Stannard and Colkett (mainly members of the "Norwich School") that accounts for me every now and then producing images like the one above.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Cleaning the Shard's windows

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"A window cleaner you would be,
If you can see what I can see,
When I'm cleanin' windows."
from the song, "When I'm Cleaning Windows sung by George Formby (1904-1961), British songwriter, comedian and actor

When I lived in Lancashire I could look out of my upstairs windows and, across the fields, see a house that once belonged to George Formby. It was called the Illawalla. Formby did a lot of work in the Blackpool area so I suppose a rural retreat a few miles inland was a good base for him.

It was his best-known song, "When I'm Cleaning Windows" that came to mind when I saw these workmen doing just that hundreds of feet above me on the Shard. Not that the subjects mentioned in his ribald lyrics would be likely to be seen at this location. However, the London sights they do see from their various vantage points around the building must be amazing. It takes a particular kind of person to do the kind of work seen in today's photograph, and I can say that it most definitely wouldn't suit me.

If you look carefully at yesterday's photograph with the closer view of the Shard you can just make out the crane, cradle and the bright orange jackets seen in the picture above.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 300mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO: 320
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shard November update

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It's probably a bit rich to describe this as an update on the progress of the Shard - the low cloud hid the "working" section at the top for much of the time I was in a position to get a shot. However, I did manage to incorporate into my main image some of a lower building that shares the same address as the Shard and together with the taller building comprises "The London Bridge Quarter". The hunk of concrete surrounded by cranes will become "The Place", a name that the workings already carry as it slowly rises above its neighours. It too will be a glass faced structure as its website shows.

It strikes me that "The Place" is an incredibly uninspiring name. It reminds me of "the hub" that is now "nccd" in Sleaford, Lincolnshire. It's a generic name, in some ways redolent of the 1960s (it conjures up a hang-out such as a coffee bar or small music venue), and is one which is unlikely to last very long.

The River Thames view is equally unrevealing of the Shard, and much less so than my earlier photograph from downstream taken in August. Even the night time shots that I took on my last visit show the building partially obscured by cloud. I suppose this is something the workers, visitors and residents of the Shard will have to get used to. Mind you, I bet the view is amazing when there's a temperature inversion.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Shoes and fashion

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"And, after all, what is a fashion? From the artistic point of view it is usually a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months."
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) Irish playwright, poet and essayist

Oscar Wilde's jaundiced observation on fashion will not find favour with those who design, sell and buy it. But, as ever with him, there are serious points within his outrageous and forceful remark. All fashion is transient and consequently, though "looks" re-appear periodically, it is concerned with changing the surface appearance of people and objects and coming up with a "new look". But, the simple fact is you can't do that for decades - centuries even - and always end up with something that is a pleasure to look at: so often fashion is most certainly "intolerable" in one way or another. Many people will object to this and say that fashion is fun, interesting, harmless. I would argue that it is wasteful of resources and, because its main purpose is to transfer money from the pocket of the consumer into those of the manufacturers and sellers, wasteful of our hard earned cash. Moreover, good design (not usually the same as fashion at all) is perfectly capable of investing products with innate (rather than superficial) qualities that will make us choose one thing over another. For more of my thoughts on fashion, style and design see this post called, appropriately enough, Fashion, Style and Design.

Today's photograph was taken near Covent Garden in London. What amazed me about this shop was the way the shoes were displayed like works of art or revered pieces in a museum. I was also intrigued by how similar most of them were. Clearly these are shoes that are designed to be looked at rather than worn in any utilitarian, work-a-day way. Wouldn't it be interesting to return to the shop in six months and test the veracity of Wilde's remark.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 205mm
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Floral Street memento mori

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At the weekend, once again visiting London, we found ourselves on Floral Street. This narrow road is lined with what I'm told are representatives of the more expensive end of the clothing trade - Paul Smith, Ted Baker etc. I hadn't taken leave of my senses and gone there to buy anything; we were just using the street as a cut through to Covent Garden. But, not wanting to waste an opportunity for a photograph, I cast my eye about for subjects. The throngs of people and the single-track nature of the road made that somewhat difficult. However, when my companions went to look at some merchandise I took the opportunity to give photography all my attention.

As I sauntered along the pavement past a shop with shoes that combined eye-watering colour, ludicrous styling and stratospheric prices, I saw a small window. It didn't appear to be part of a shop and featured a spotlit skull with a necklace on a stand. I suppose it may have been some kind of retail premises with a sales pitch so subtle or so esoteric that it was only recognisable as such by the cognoscenti. However, this passing photographer immediately saw the window display as a memento mori placed there as a countervailing presence to the offerings of mammon that were all around. Not very likely you might think, but it was a basis for coming up with a shot. The one I arrived at has three subjects - the skull, a reflected man gazing at either the skull or the reflected me, and a passer-by - an arrangement that might prompt a few thoughts about what's going on in the image, and whether there is a connection between the subjects. Not my usual approach to picture-making and street photography isn't my usual style, but it was a bit of fun that made a few minutes alone pass quickly.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/40
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Autumn at Woodhall Spa

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On a recent overcast day, we took a six or seven mile stroll through some woods and lanes in Lincolnshire, a county that is, in the popular consciousness, a treeless place. Our starting point was the village of Woodhall Spa, a place whose very name suggests that it may be a wooded spot. Located between the chalk and the limestone, Woodhall Spa features heather and bracken, many tree types including silver birch, beech and oak, and has soil that can support the widespread rhododendrons that the Victorians and Edwardians planted. Mature woodland adjoins and penetrates the large village and mature trees can be seen in many gardens. For anyone who doesn't know Woodhall Spa the late John Betjeman called it "that half-timbered Bournemouth-like settlement", a description that sums up the look and feel of the place quite well.

The English National Golf Centre and its courses are found here. Apparently - and I'm no golfer so I can't attest to this - the Hotchkin Course is a classic British heathland course and was voted "25th best course in the world" by Golf World Magazine. What I do know is that a public footpath winds through the courses and adjacent woodlands and the semi-wild landscape makes quite a nice start to a ramble from the village centre. On our walk the colours of the autumn leaves were just starting to decline in intensity but were still very attractive, and I managed a few shots as we followed a track through a tunnel of trees. In the one above my photographic assistant - aka my wife - was persuaded to be the focal point in the "tunnel".

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 183mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200
ISO: 1250
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Apophenia and remembrance

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Tomorrow is the 11th day of the 11th month of the year 2011. Some people seem to be making a lot of that even though repetitious dates are reasonably common. Yes, the date is palindromic, but then quite a few years have visual, numerical and other oddities associated with them. The first such occurrence I recall was 1961. Why? Well, if you look at it upside down it still reads the same. I know this because I remember that anomaly being made much of on the cover of a "Dandy" comic (or was it "Beano") in - you've guessed it - 1961.

The press have been making quite a bit of the coming date. I've seen it described as the "corduroy" date (vertical lines!). Yuri Geller - remember him and his spoon bending - has been quoted as saying "11.11 is the pre-encoded trigger and the key to the mysteries of the universe and beyond." Who'd have thought it! The numerical coincidence of the date is, for reasons that completely escape me, felt to be reason enough for choosing it as an auspicious date on which to get married. Apparently the small Scottish town of Gretna Green near the border with England will host over fifty weddings on that day. This compares with fewer than a dozen on any other Friday in November. Seeing meaningful patterns in random numbers or data is known as apophenia, and 11.11.11 certainly seems to have brought the apopheniacs out in force.

For much of the rest of the population the date is merely an interesting coincidence that in no way overshadows the fact that it is Armistice Day - the day that commemorates the end of the first world war. And it's with that in mind that I post today's photograph. It shows part of the memorial in Sutterton church, Lincolnshire, that records the men of the parish who died in what came to be called The Great War. This simple plaque, lovingly cared for down the years, caught my eye because overlaying the list of names were the colours of the nearby British Legion flag that was reflected on its surface.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 88mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/60
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Ladybirds and colour

click photo to enlarge

If this blog and my photographic records are anything to go by it seems I notice ladybirds only out of season: that is to say, at times other than summer. When I was processing today's photograph I was wondering why this might be. It occurred to me that it could be because in summer the bright red/orange of these beetles doesn't stand out against the kaleidoscope of colour that flowers are offering, whereas in spring, autumn and winter the odd bright spot provided by the even odder ladybird foolish enough to brave the cool or cold weather sticks out like the proverbial sore thumb.

I photographed today's specimen in a churchyard as I walked down the stone path to the south porch. The parishioners had planted a variety of annuals and shrubs to line the route. The blue-green of a clump of euphorbia was working well with the dark orange of some fading tagetes and I composed a shot that included these near complementary colours placing the shrub in focus in the foreground and the blurred flowers in the background. As I hunted for a suitable composition I spotted the ladybird and included it for the sharp point of deep colour that it added to the shot.

photograph and ext (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/125
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Roadside trees

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Trees are a part of the historical record that is often overlooked. Quite a few of Britain's woods and forests have existed for several hundred years, often shrinking, frequently changing their outline, but still recognisable in early maps and plans from elements of their perimeter that remain the same. Medieval banks and ditches that marked both the edge of a wood and internal divisions can still be seen. I've come across examples recently in Lincolnshire and Herefordshire. And many of the trees themselves are often much older than people realise. It comes as a surprise to some that in terms of "ancient trees" - those that are several hundred years old - England has more than anywhere north of the Mediterranean except Greece.

Trees are also good indicators of former dwellings. An unexpected couple of apple trees by the corner of a field frequently marks the site of a long gone cottage. In the Fens, where I currently live, apple trees (eaters not crab apples) are commonly found in hedgerows. I've often wondered if they show where the formerly more numerous agricultural workers deliberately set a sapling, or perhaps where a wooden or mud and stud house sat on a roadside plot.

Today's photograph shows an altogether different group of trees that are visible across the local fen. I don't think they were ever associated with houses. My guess is that they are the whim of a local farmer. Perhaps he had some conifers and ornamental deciduous trees left over from planting that he was doing around his farm. Or maybe he thought he'd liven up the local landscape. Whatever the reason, ever since I moved to the area I've looked at this line of trees and wondered. I recently passed it on my bicycle on a foggy afternoon that almost eliminated the background beyond the row of trees and I took this shot. I like it for the way the evergreens provide solid punctuation marks in the line of much more delicate deciduous trees, something that black and white emphasises better than colour.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12.8mm (60mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/320
ISO:80
Exposure Compensation: -0.66 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Sleaford Picturedrome

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The first cinemas in Britain were built in the years before the First World War. They were generally small with fanciful facade details in a debased Art Nouveau or Classical style applied in relatively cheap materials.  The real heyday of cinema construction began in the 1920s, speeded up after the introduction of the "talkies" in 1927, and continued through the 1930s. A theatre for moving film projection was a new building type. However, designers initially based the layout on a traditional theatre, though the area of the stage was reduced and the associated machinery and layers of curtains were clearly not required. The later cinemas were essentially functional buildings overlaid with a decorative style on the facade and in the public rooms and auditorium. These styles were plundered from many lands and periods - Moorish, Classical and Art Deco were popular but in the 1930s a streamlined Moderne took hold featuring cream tiles, fins, windows wrapped around corners and sometimes columns, lotus flowers and tapering pilasters sourced from Egyptian temples.

Today's photograph shows a former cinema - The Picturedrome - at Sleaford in Lincolnshire. Like many such buildings it no longer fulfils its original purpose and is now closed, but it still shows evidence of its recent use as a nightclub. It was built in 1920 in a sort of stripped Classical style. The main entrance is flanked by columns, with a large Diocletian window with a rusticated surround above. The cornice has regularly spaced paterae-like circles and in the centre of the attic storey is a circular window with what look like husk garlands and some Greek key pattern. The inside had a rectangular proscenium arch, a barrel vaulted ceiling and painted panels decorating the walls. It could seat 900 people and it was apparently so successful that a balcony extension was installed to seat a further 80. Who knows what its future holds?

You may be wondering about the colours of this particular photograph. I turned the original colour shot into black and white and then gave it a digital blue and sepia "split toning" effect. In the days of film, when I processed and printed my own black and white photographs, I always wanted to try split toning but the apparent complexity of it put me off. Essentially it involves using two different coloured toners which affect the shadows and light areas differently. Digital split toning mimics this. I've applied the effect once before, and I think it is a very good fit for the subject - the new seafront at Cleveleys, Lancashire. I thought this cinema might also benefit from the treatment.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Smithies and forges

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Today's photograph is posted in response to an email I have received from "down under", Australia to be more specific. It was from someone doing family history research. One of her ancestors lived in the parish of Aswarby and in her researches she'd come across my photographs of the church, the local landscape and in particular, the old smithy. In 2008 I posted a sepia coloured photograph of this building and wrote something of its history. She wondered whether I had a colour photograph of the building. As luck would have it her email came shortly after we'd had a walk in the area and I'd taken another photograph of the building. Here it is.

I wouldn't have posted this photograph had it not been for the email and, more particularly, the fact that it reminded me of another smithy I'd photographed last year. The former forge/smithy and bakehouse at Tinwell, Rutland is altogether grander and more ornate than the example at Aswarby. It too is a consciously picturesque building in an"estate village", the product of a rich and paternalistic landowner. But, whereas Aswarby's smithy is on a track off the main road in a small, somewhat scattered settlement, the one in Tinwell is in the centre of a larger village near the church, and this probably influenced its scale and decorative qualities. Aswarby has a datestone showing 1846, the year of its construction. Tinwell was built only two years later in 1848. Is it down to fashion that both have horseshoes carved on their facades to indicate their purpose? Tinwell's is massive enclosing a door. Was this a shoeing bay? If so it's certainly a grander entrance than the double doors on the left at Aswarby. The funds available at Tinwell, and the vision of the landowner and his architect also allowed for the incorporation of a water supply under the arch in the wall at the centre of the composition. Today Tinwell's smithy/forge is a post office.

click photo to enlarge

Main Photo
Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 28mm
F No: f4
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Autumn leaves

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Flowering cherries must have more cameras pointed at them than any other species of tree. It's not difficult to see why. In spring the trees are covered in showy blossom. In autumn their leaves flicker with fiery colours - red, orange, yellow and purple replacing the lingering greens. Cherries are often planted in avenues or groups, but single specimens abound among plainer trees too, and in these circumstances the oriental species attracts the eye with colours that outshine virtually all its companions. I think I'm probably an exception to the photographic rule that I am proposing because this blog attests to my liking for a wide variety of trees. However, I have photographed my share of flowering cherries, not least because my garden has five examples. Two of them are about as big as they get - approximately twenty five feet high. One is an old, gnarled, very Japanese-looking example with pink blossom like candy floss. The other two are younger trees. None were planted by me.

Last year the autumnal colours of the flowering cherries were the best I have seen. This year I remarked to my wife that they seemed more subdued. But, a few days after I uttered those words, as if to prove me wrong, a couple of the trees produced leaves of very deep and intense hues, such that I had to go in and get my camera. I generally find that flower and leaf colours in photographs are truest when the shot is taken in bright, overcast conditions; there is less reflection from the surfaces of the plants. On this occasion, however, it was the sunlit leaves that outshone those taken under cloud cover. The particular group of leaves I focused on were in dappled light with the background leaves more strongly lit and the colours shown above are those that came out of the camera.

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

Wide angle distortion and innovation

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The flood of innovation in cameras and photography in general that occurred following the introduction of digital into the mass market continues, albeit at a slower pace than five or ten years ago. Most recently we've seen developments such as the Lytro camera that allows you to select a point of focus after you've taken your shot, or produce versions of the same shot with different points of focus. Interesting though that is, it's not the first new development that I would wish to see. In fact, way ahead of such things I'd place a means of controlling wide angle distortion.

I was thinking about this the other day as I photographed the church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire. I've posted shots of the exterior of this building before (for example here, here, and here). These distant views show the tower or details, but not the whole of the church. That is because St Botolph is one of the largest parish churches in the country, its tower is the tallest (that doesn't include a spire), and it is quite closely surrounded by buildings. The only "open" shot you can get of the church is from a space near the edge of the market place. However, from this location a wide angle lens is necessary, and with that comes distortion that changes the emphasis of the component parts of the structure. More specifically, the tremendous tower with its "lantern" top is diminished in size and the nearness of the chancel causes it to assume a bulk approximately equal to that of the nave. Such equality of size is rare in an English church and it certainly doesn't exist at Boston even though its chancel is bigger than that of some cathedrals. If the photographer was able to somehow adjust the distortion that the wide angle lens produces and could bring a building closer to its proper proportions I'd be very happy. You may well think that to do so would break the laws of optics. But wouldn't we once have said that about selecting a point of focus after the shutter has been pressed?

The sharp shadows produced by the clear sky of an early November day prompted this shot. I usually wish for a few clouds when the sky is clear, but the searing blue of this autumn day also had its attractions, and without it those sharp shadows wouldn't have been there. Incidentally, in the photograph Herbert Ingram standing atop his column once again has the indignity of a bird perched on his head. Whenever I pass there's usually a pigeon in residence. On this occasion it was a black-headed gull that had claimed the prized spot from which to survey the world and scavenge for crumbs.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 17mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Osbournby church

click photo to enlarge

There's no easier way to announce yourself as an outsider to this area of Lincolnshire than by pronouncing the name of the village of Osbournby phonetically, just as it's written i.e. "Ozbornbi". For reasons that I'm sure few, if any know, the local pronunciation is "Ozzenbi". In an attempt to get to the bottom of why this is so I delved into the derivation of the placename.

The Domesday Book of 1086 gives two spellings - Esbernbi and Osbernedebi. Also used in the eleventh century was Osbernebi. It is thought that these come from the combining of an anglicisation of an Old Danish personal name - Aesbiorn (changed to Osbeorn) - with the Old Danish "by" meaning farmstead or village. So, the settlement was named after this person who founded it or was of importance within it. All very interesting, but as far as the current local pronunciation goes, not a great deal of help. The elision, contraction or slurring of the "bourn" part and its replacement by a "zz" sound is the interesting change that needs explaining. In fact, Osbournby is not alone in being subjected to this particular corruption. Just over five miles south, down the A15, is the village of Aslackby where the "zz" sound replaces "lack" to give the local pronunciation, "Azelbi" (as in Hazel where the "h" isn't sounded). I'll have to do a bit more digging if I'm to come up with an explanation for all this.

We passed Osbournby's church the other day as a light wind was blowing the chestnut and beech leaves of the churchyard trees on to the closely cut grass. This particular building, that dates mainly from the fourteenth century, is quite hard to photograph in summer from the south east with sunlight on it because of those tall trees. Their shadows fall across much of the aisle, nave and chancel. However, on this autumn afternoon the trees had shed enough leaves for light to filter through and give the scene both illumination and interest, so I took my shot.

For a photograph of the fine medieval bench ends that the church is famous for see here.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 24mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.00 EV
Image Stabilisation: On