Destroying the past

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The destruction of the past is perhaps the greatest of all crimes.
Simone Weil (1909-1943) French philosopher, Christian mystic and political activist
Despite having great sympathy with Simone Weil's statement I don't find it difficult to think of a worse crime than destroying the past. However, to remove evidence of mankind's past is, undoubtedly, a particularly destructive thing to do. Our sense of the present is greatly informed by our knowledge of the past, and to lose one is to impair the other. The past - in printed or image form, in memories and in buildings and artefacts -  is all that we have to remember those who came before us. To rub them out is to extinguish people, and that is always wrong, whether they are living or dead.

If we confine ourselves to buildings we find that Isis are not the first group to wilfully and deliberately destroy ancient structures for their own ends. The Taliban did it in Afghanistan and in 1942 the Luftwaffe did it in their so-called Baedecker Raids on Britain, a response they said, to the switch to area bombing by the RAF. However, it is not always warring factions that are most responsible for the destruction of the past. All too frequently it is simple neglect or misplaced planning and "progress". In the 1960s and 1970s many ancient buildings that today would have been preserved, adapted and turned to new uses, were swept away in the name of progress. It took the destruction of the Euston Arch to galvanise people against the vandalism that was taking place and begin to bring to an end the loss that was taking place.

Tattershall Castle (above) was one of the buildings in the forefront of early building preservation legislation. In 1910, in a ruinous state, it was bought by Lord Curzon and sensitively restored. It had been destined to be dismantled and parts sold abroad. His experience with this building prompted Lord Curzon to press for some laws to protect old buildings resulting in the Ancient Monuments Consolidation and Amendment Act of 1913. As a direct consequence of his actions we can still experience something of this ancient building - as the mother and daughter are doing in today's photograph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Old graffiti

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On March 12th 1848 I. Burton and H. King of Wisbech in Cambridgeshire were standing on a staircase of Tattershall Castle in Lincolnshire, presumably with a hammer and chisel or some other implements, carving their names in the stone handrail built into the wall. We know this because the heavily incised graffiti is still there for all to read. It is, I suppose, an immortality of sorts. They had probably been inspired by L. C. Howy (?) who had done the same thing in 1779, and perhaps by others from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

At the time this brick and stone castle was in a ruinous state, open to the weather and to any passing tourist, antiquarian or vandal. Many of the latter left their mark and most of them can be read today. One of the characteristics of graffiti today is that if it isn't quickly removed it soon attracts more. That was also true in the past.

We saw this particular piece of graffiti on a visit to the castle. However, it wasn't the first old graffiti that we'd seen that day. Before we arrived at Tattershall we had stopped off at Haltham and noted the names and dates left on the stone surround of the church's south door by vandals of the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. There was much less, to be sure, but it was there nonetheless. Even in the supposedly God-fearing seventeenth century there were people who thought little of leaving their name or initials on the fabric of a church, clearly unworried by the thought of any retribution that might follow their desecration.

photographs and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:3200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Another Kitchen Sink shot

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In a blog post several years ago I announced to the world that I was a Kitchen Sink photographer. It was a title I conferred on myself after the creation of my greasy baking tray photograph, and once I'd done so I immediately cited some earlier photographs as examples of this genre, including a piece that I consider one of my better attempts at humour.

A couple of days ago I added to my collection. This time, however, it did not include grease, chili or soap suds. The low sun of a mid-September morn was slanting through the kitchen's Venetian blinds and casting shadows across our shiny induction hob and the tiles on the wall behind it. This happy coming together of two of my photographic favourites - shadows and reflections - combined with another structure that appears regularly in my photography - a regular grid of rectangles - was like photographic catnip to me and I took the semi-abstract shot above. It won't be a subject or style that appeals to everyone but it pleases me.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (90mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:250
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Larder, Gainsborough Old Hall

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The modern surname, Spencer, is thought to come from the old French Despencer, Despenser or Dispenser, the name of a knight who may have supported William 1 in his conquest of England. This name may derive from the act of dispensing after the manner of a steward, or refer to the larder itself. Within a couple of centuries "spence" or "spens" had come to mean a food store or the surname of one who had the responsibility for such a place, in Northern England and Scotland.

That word was largely replaced by larder and pantry, the food stores for meat and bread, in England. Today those words are, in turn, falling out of use, and the much more general "cupboard" or "food cupboard" (or perhaps freezer and refrigerator) have taken their place. However, in my travels this year, during my visits to several old country houses owned by the National Trust and English heritage, the older words that were commonly used in my childhood returned to my current vocabulary as I have come across several reconstructed larders. These old store rooms have been "provisioned" with representations of some of the foodstuffs they would originally have held. In July I posted a photograph of a larder at Canons Ashby, Northamptonshire. Today I offer an example from Gainsborough Old Hall, Lincolnshire. This large, partly timber-framed town house has particularly large and fine kitchens and associated rooms dating from the 1400s. I particularly liked the evocative, dimly lit larder and the (stuffed) game and representations of prepared meat on the slab.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.4
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Swallows, barns and Mobius

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The re-naming of certain species of British birds is something that will take a long time to gain widespread acceptance - if ever it does attain that position. Certainly, as far as I'm concerned, a wheatear will not be called a northern wheatear, a jackdaw will never be a western jackdaw and a jay won't be a Eurasian jay. I can certainly understand why ornithologists, drawing on recent genetic discoveries, see the need to differentiate birds with greater precision. But, that doesn't mean that the common names won't continue in use, nor I think, do bird experts expect otherwise. My father called what is today referred to as the northern lapwing, the tewit, a country name that he grew up with. I shall continue to call it the lapwing as I have done all my life. And I will never bring myself to call a swallow a barn swallow.

On a recent visit to Gainsborough we came across a street sculpture in mirror-finished stainless steel that depicted a Mobius strip (ring) of swallows. The piece was called "Endless Summer", a title that caused me to groan. It wasn't the greatest example of recent public sculpture that I've seen but the shiny finish lifted it above the other examples that we came across in the town. I was sufficiently interested in the way the polished metal reflected the surroundings and imparted changing colours to take this detail of part of the ring of birds. Real swallows were still about when I took my shot, skimming the nearby River Trent and circling above the fields across the water. In a few weeks they'll be gone but their metal counterparts will still be here, reflecting the greyer days of autumn and winter.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 54mm (108mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

British Camp, Malvern Hills

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Many years ago I came across a second-hand copy of "The Relative Hills of Britain" by Alan Dawson. The premise of this fairly slim volume is simple but interesting. It lists all of our island's hills that are high relative to the surrounding land - the qualification for inclusion in the book is that there must be a drop of 150 metres (492 feet) or more on all sides of the summit. Britain doesn't have particularly high mountains - Ben Nevis at 4,409 feet (1,344 metres) is the tallest. Nonetheless, there are many British so-called "walking enthusiasts" who consider it beneath them to climb anything below 2,000 feet (610 metres), the height at which a hill becomes a mountain. What this book helpfully does is list the "relative hills" on a regional basis and directs the attention of walkers to many "lesser" peaks that are significant and worth climbing.

I was reminded of this on a recent visit to Herefordshire as we walked up Black Hill, Pinnacle Hill and Jubilee Hill, three of the "saw tooth" peaks of the Malvern Hills, a low range that features in its pages. As we did so we looked back at Herefordshire Beacon, another of the "teeth", that is topped by the Iron Age hill fort called British Camp. The September sun was picking out the detail of the earthworks, paths and a couple of people on the grass-clad summit above the tree-line. We have walked to the top of the Beacon a couple of times and I've posted photographs I've taken from the top. On this occasion we were looking for different views over the surrounding countryside and more distant prospects of the ancient earthworks.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

Lichfield Cathedral is number 2...

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... in terms of popularity on this blog. On a few occasions I have reviewed my hit counter and noted, in particular, the most popular posts and photographs, and the countries that produce the most hits. Ever since I first did this my blog post showing the nave of Lichfield Cathedral in Staffordshire has been second in popularity. By a large margin, I must say, from the third most popular, and considerably behind the number one post. I don't propose to list all these again, but I do still wonder what makes Lichfield's cathedral a relative magnet for visitors.

This particular English cathedral is a bit of an oddity in that its two west towers have tall spires, as does its crossing tower: cathedrals with three big spires are very unusual in England. It's also true to say that Lichfield isn't one of the "big" cathedrals in terms of size, popularity, architectural beauty and significance, or visitor numbers. It lags well behind the likes of Canterbury, Westminster, Lincoln, York, Durham etc. And maybe that accounts for it. Perhaps, on the world wide web, Lichfield has fewer photographs and articles than many other cathedrals and therefore the ones that do exist attract relatively more hits.

This photograph of the nave taken on my recent visit is from a slightly different position compared with my earlier effort. And this time I looked very carefully before I pressed the shutter and checked that there wasn't a box in the foreground! I took my shot with a 16:9 aspect ratio in mind to remove some of the nearest seats and give greater emphasis to the repeated verticals of the columns, piers and arches.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.2
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:3200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Walkie Not Talkie

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I've never been a fan of the telephone. There's something about talking to a disembodied voice that doesn't appeal to me. Moreover, I spent too much time speaking to people on the phone during my working life. That's not to say I don't appreciate their utility, and of course, I do use phones. With that in mind you might think that the rise of the smartphone would be something I'd welcome because it offers communication without the necessity for speaking. In fact, I wonder if these days such devices aren't more used for texting (SMS), email, social media communication etc, than simply speaking to people. But the fact is, though I recognise their multiple uses, and though I use my wife's smartphone, I haven't succumbed to one myself because I have enough computers of one kind or another and the idea of having one to use on a regular basis when I'm out and about is simply too much to contemplate.

I sometimes wonder what smartphone users would do if they had their device surgically removed. What would they do with their hands, their eyes, their ears and their brains? Would they have to look about them, make their own entertainment, fret because they don't know what their friends and acquaintances are doing, organise their time and social interactions better because there was no phone to make last-minute adjustments? I do wonder whether smartphones will turn us into lobster people who carry massive smartphones as evolution causes us to develop massively over-sized thumbs from countless keypresses.

I recognise that my relative antipathy to smartphones isn't widely held. On reflection it probably comes from the deep enjoyment I get from looking at our world, finding out about it and reflecting on what I see. A smartphone would get in the way of that - and it would encourage me to use an inferior camera!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 63mm (126mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

Blues and the chapel pianist

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I think it was 1969 when I bought "King of the Delta Blues Singers" by Robert Johnson, a collection of acoustic blues recorded in the 1930s. And it was probably two years later, in 1971, that I bought the newly issued "King of the Delta Blues Singers Vol. II". These were 33rpm L.P.s with paintings of Robert Johnson on the front. The first album showed him from above. The second had an illustration of him playing his guitar in front of a microphone that was positioned in the corner of the living room of a house. Comprehensive cover notes (of a kind that died with the advent of the CD) said that, despite his wonderful song-writing ability and great guitar playing, he was incurably shy and reticent about recording and would only perform without making eye contact with anyone.

I was reminded of this illustration recently when we visited Wimpole Hall in Cambridgeshire. This stately home is in the care of the National Trust and features, among many splendours, a private chapel with interesting trompe l'oeil paintings. When we visited it we were entertained by a pianist who was sitting at his instrument facing the wall at one end of the chapel. I don't think he suffered from the performance terrors that afflicted Robert Johnson because between pieces he was chatting to visitors. However, it did look odd and it appeared somewhat unkind that he should be so positioned. Perhaps it was his choice to avoid the distractions of the steady stream of visitors.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.9
Shutter Speed: 1/40 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Hinges and old doors

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Today's photograph shows a detail of the priest's door on the exterior of the chancel of the church of St Andrew at Heckington, Lincolnshire.

The solid oak and the rusted, ornate metal work appear to date from a Victorian restoration, perhaps that done by Charles Kirk in 1867. Readers of this blog will know that in Lincolnshire (and many other parts of Britain) church doors are often considerably older - examples from the fifteenth century are relatively common and those from three or four centuries earlier are still to be found.

Many people imagine that the large, intricate scroll-work of the hinges of such doors are purely ornamental. But, as with the tracery, buttresses moulding, pinnacles etc of Gothic churches the seemingly decorative is fundamentally structural. In the case of the doors there are stiles and rails that fix the pieces of wood together. However, the scrollwork of the hinges provides additional fixing and hence strength to the structure while at the same time beautifying the door. If I were to hazard a guess I'd say that this metalwork has rarely, if ever, been painted. It looks none the worse for it!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Sony RX100
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 10.4mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:125
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Eye-scorching colour

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Living in the countryside I am surrounded by natural, largely muted colour - the greens and browns of grass and leaves, the dark earth, the bricks, tiles and stone of village and farm buildings. It's true that points of strong colour intrude in the form of flowers, large agricultural vehicles, and most of all the blue of the sky. But it's also true to say that I don't regularly experience the layers of in-your-face, man-made colours so often found in the city. And there are times when I crave them.

So, I was pleased to visit an exhibition of creative textiles by Michael Brennand-Woods at the National Centre for Craft and Design at Sleaford, Lincolnshire, and discover that many of the pieces on display offered eye-scorching colour. As I've mentioned before, it's not unusual for me to come away from NCCD exhibitions feeling disappointed. But, as I've also noted there are occasions when I enjoy an encounter with a kind of craft (or art) that I don't usually seek out, and I depart from the show visually and creatively stimulated. Such was my experience on a recent visit where I saw textiles on the theme of "Seeds of Memory". I can't say that I engaged with the works on the terms that they were offered to me, and the impenetrable, jargon-ridden, art-speak made me despair, as it always does. But I got a lot from the experience on my own terms and that was enough for me. Other visitors who, like us, seem to have popped in for a break from shopping, appeared to appreciate the exhibition too.

During my visit I reflected on whether or not these pieces would work outside the gallery, in a home or an office for example, and decided they would. I often think otherwise about NCCD exhibits because many benefit from the light, shadows and space in which they are displayed, qualities that don't easily transfer to smaller settings.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (90mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:4000
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Under the bridge

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It is a children's story that I blame for my fascination with bridges; specifically, "The Three Billy Goats Gruff". When I first heard about them going "trip-trap, trip-trap over the rickety bridge" I began to look at bridges in a new light, as structures with a mysterious underneath as well as a very useful top. The small town where I was raised has a rocky river passing through it so footbridges and road bridges, old and new were well-known to me. I never saw any trolls beneath them but I discovered that the water under a bridge was a good place to spot trout, and the underside of the bridge itself frequently held nooks and crannies where dippers would sometimes build their nests.

This interest in bridges has been life-long and this blog contains many photographs of these interesting structures. Today's photograph shows the underside of a bridge on the River Witham at Boston, Lincolnshire. It is old, rarely used, and supported by both steel and timber, though the latter, as you can see, is somewhat the worse for wear. I liked the bold, semi-abstract shapes that the dark structure and its reflection made against the water - it reminded me of the paintings of Franz Kline.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 63mm (126mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.5
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

Spinning wool

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There are children today who, if you tell them that milk comes from cows, will look at you incredulously, thinking that you are playing some kind of practical joke on them. The same children find it hard to believe that the bread they are eating is made from the seeds of a cultivated grass. As for the notion that the jumper they are wearing was once, in rather more basic form, worn by a sheep - well, suggest that and your sanity will be questioned. If you find this hard to believe, let me assure you I have met such children. They are not widespread, but they do exist, and for two reasons. Firstly, their parents haven't told them about such things either through traditional stories or in the normal course of their early lives. And secondly, because modern life increasingly distances us from the source of our food and drink, the clothes we wear and much else.

Before I took today's photograph I was explaining the process of weaving - insofar as I understand it - to my grand-daughter as we watched the sheep fleece pass through the spinner's hands onto the spinning wheel and thence to the bobbin. What fascinated her most was the way the steady up and down foot movement of the spinner on the treadle was, via rods, cranks and wheels converted into very fast rotary movement, and how the mass of wool was drawn into a single strand. It intrigued me too and I was glad that here was someone carrying on this tradition and demonstrating it for all to see.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 80mm (160mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.5
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:250
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographic aspect ratios

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The world wide web, it seems to me, has increased the amount of confrontation and stridency in photography. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting that this outweighs the co-operation and learning that the online world confers on our hobby and profession. However, the early years of my forty odd with camera in hand certainly didn't feature the vituperation I regularly see today. Photography is not alone in this of course, and it's possibly the opportunity to adopt extreme postures and language anonymously that encourages the outpourings of bile.

To stick with photography, I continue to be amazed about the subjects on which people have unwavering views that they broadcast and defend with boorish language. Brand loyalty, sensor size, fixed lenses versus zoom, black and white versus colour, the list is endless when it comes to the subjects that some photographers can get exercised about. I've even seen people vociferously arguing the merits of one aspect ratio over another. Now when it comes to this subject I play the field. I'll use 4:3, 3:2, 16:9 and 1:1 as the subject requires. Sometimes I'll select the aspect ration before taking the shot, often I'll take it with the largest capture possible but with a different aspect ratio in mind, and frequently I'll crop post-capture. And the idea that one or another is intrinsically "best" or "better" than another seems to me absurd: all are possible, so choose the most appropriate. I've even been known - whisper it quietly - to choose a non-standard aspect ratio where it seemed to fit the subject better.

Today's photograph was one that I shot at 4:3 thinking that it might work well at 16:9. That turned out to be the case and is in fact the best aspect ratio for this image. It shows some of the inshore fishing boats on the River Witham at Boston, Lincolnshire, with in the distance, the tall tower of the medieval church of St Botolph.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 34mm (68mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1600 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3
Image Stabilisation: On

The essential compositional element

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Photographic compositions can be constructed in many ways, some orthodox and some not so usual. Down the years I have come to realise that some compositions depend on a single element to complete it or to connect the disparate parts. It can be a leaf, a reflected figure, an empty can, or a tiny group of people whose compositional significance outweighs their size.

On a recent walk by the River Witham in Boston, Lincolnshire, I took a couple of photographs of some old hulks, wooden boats of early twentieth century vintage that have been left to rot on the river banks, their mud-covered forms inundated daily by the tides and exposed at low water. I couldn't compose a satisfactory photograph of the complete boat that features in today's photograph but I liked the bow detail and thought that, together with the gull, it would make a composition. But, the space between the two elements was too great and, to my mind, the whole did not bind together satisfactorily. However, when I changed my position the gull's footprints leading to its position at the water's edge were more strongly emphasised and they created an essential element that, for me, made the composition work much better.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 52mm (104mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3
Image Stabilisation: On

Stone, cast iron and slate

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In the main the builders of Britain's medieval parish churches used local stone. Sometimes this was very well suited to the purpose - it withstood the weather well, held sharp moulding and carving for centuries, and the Victorian restorers left most of it in place. The Oolitic limestone of Barnack and Ancaster are two good examples of such stone. Elsewhere, however, the stone left much to be desired but was used nonetheless because to bring better material from afar was simply too expensive. Much of the greenstone used in churches of the Lincolnshire Wolds, though striking in terms of colour, has decayed down the centuries, flaking off the surface, leaving walls pock marked and shabby, requiring heavy restoration. The builders must have known that it wasn't the best building stone, but they used it for convenience, cost, colour and out of a sense of local pride. I'm glad they did. The medieval tower of Horncastle church is positively rainbow-coloured with old and new local stone, as is that of Great Malvern Priory in Worcestershire.

On a recent visit to Derbyshire I came upon this stonework (above) at the church of St Giles, Calke. The building was erected in 1826-8 as a private church on the estate of Calke Abbey. I imagine the beautiful and subtly coloured stone is local, and it immediately caught my eye. What I also noticed was the tracery of the windows and I went to touch them to see if my suspicions were accurate. They were. The reticulated tracery of these two-light windows is made of cast iron. A little research  showed that they were made at a foundry in Derby. I've come across late Georgian and Victorian cast iron church windows before. They are not common, but can be found in cities and parts of the country adjacent to iron-producing areas. Here the colour they have been painted, does I think, go well with the stone and even with the dark slate gravestones rising up through the long churchyard grass.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 39mm (78mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

Dust sheets

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I came upon these dust sheets in one of the unrestored rooms at Calke Abbey, Derbyshire. The wallpaper was stained from what seemed like an ingress of water and the fireplace looked as though an overmantel of some sort had been removed. The furniture that the room held was only suggested by the shapes of the sheets: chairs were obvious, tables and cupboards less so, and what, I wondered, was the tall, thin piece under its sheet? Times past and time suspended were suggested by the anonymous shapes. One could imagine that as the room was painted, papered and readied for visitors the sheets would come off and, with a flick of a duster and a rub of polish, all would be as it once was.

I took my photograph because the jumble of shapes intrigued me. I also liked the contrast between the well-lit pieces by the window with the darker corners of the room, and the limited range of colours that worked well together.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:3200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Derelict brewhouse

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Obsessive tidiness can be as much an eyesore as can casual mess. I was pondering this a few days ago when I came across some hedges that had been "cut" perfectly level and made narrower by a farmer who had spent some considerable time tidying the perimeter of his land. I say "cut" because in fact the poor hedge had been battered and smashed by a rotary cutter fixed to a tractor's power take-off, and consequently the end of each branch had been frayed to the point where it looked like a paintbrush. To make matters worse the roadside grass had been cut - perhaps using the same tool - so short that it was left looking like yellow, parched stubble, a bright and sorry contrast to the deep green of the flourishing verges nearby.

There is sometimes a pleasure to be had in untidiness, be it a wanton hedgerow, a stony river bed full of flood debris, or a derelict building that has been untouched for years. I was inside one of the latter recently, a former brewhouse at Calke Abbey, Derbyshire, which is a stately home in the care of the National Trust. What distinguishes this property from many owned by the Trust is that they received it when it was in a state of decay and dereliction and many of the rooms and buildings have not yet been restored. It is advertised, quite rightly, as an "un-stately home", and the contrast between the restored and the derelict is interesting to see. Today's photograph shows the vats, barrels, and implements of the brewhouse. I've wanted to produce a sepia toned photograph for a while and this subject seemed just right for that purpose.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f4.0
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

Scarecrows and Victorian values

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Scarecrows are a common sight in Lincolnshire, particularly on the Fens where vegetables are grown. Predation by wood pigeons is quite significant, and farmers have turned to methods old and new to keep the birds off the crops. Researchers tell us that the most common method, propane-powered bird scaring "gunshots" - a single report shortly followed by two more - is actually the most effective. However, a wide variety of other devices are used.

Hawk kites flying from a cord at the top of a tall pole are frequently seen and seem to be ineffective. Cut up plastic bags fixed to the top of softwood stakes to make flags that fill a field and crackle in the wind are also popular and equally useless. Spinning, shiny propellers or balls with faces appear to be less common that a few years ago, perhaps an indication that they don't work either. The most annoying bird scarer, and mercifully only infrequently seen, is a day-glo scarecrow that periodically inflates and stands up to the accompaniment of flashing lights and a siren. As far as I can see that device is about as ineffective as the traditional scarecrow of the type seen in today's photograph.

Given our government's fixation with market economics and its desire to push youth and the unemployed into a job, any job, no matter how low paid or worthwhile the work is, it can only be a matter of time before we see the return of the Victorian method of bird scaring. So look out for boys walking the fields, throwing stones at the crows and pigeons, in exchange for their daily pittance.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 90mm (180mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:500
Exposure Compensation: 0
Image Stabilisation: On

Good enough is fine by me

click photo to enlarge
In 2010 I posted a piece called "Enthusiast photographers and camera angst" wherein I said that most DSLRs since the time resolution reached 8MP are good enough for most keen photographers. I referred to Alamy's recommended camera list (here is the current one), to show that this is the case. My view on that hasn't changed. That being so you may be wondering why I changed my camera system. Well, it wasn't because I believed the new system would deliver better photographs, or that I sought features that Canon's 35mm sized sensor and lenses didn't offer. It was basically down to size and weight - Micro Four Thirds is simply easier to carry and therefore more likely to be available to me when I'm out and about. And the fact is, that in terms of detail, there is no discernible difference in until I begin to print at sizes that I've never printed at - ever!

On a recent visit to Peterborough Cathedral I thought I'd try a hand-held shot of the crossing using the 9-18mm wide-angle zoom set at an aperture that would ensure close to maximum sharpness and 6400 ISO, the level I have set as the maximum I want from the camera (higher numbers are available). I'm not displeased with the outcome. I could have halved, possibly quartered the ISO and still hand-held the shot to increase the quality, but the outcome with the settings I chose would, I'm sure produce an A4 print that would satisfy me, and a little work may well give a reasonable result at A3. The image above is slightly cropped and rotated because I didn't get everything quite square.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 9mm (18mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/60 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Depicting demons

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When it came to depicting the devil and his minions Christianity seems to have drawn on two sources of inspiration - visions and animals. Many religious figures down the ages have claimed to have seen, conversed with and battled the forces of darkness, and their descriptions have been a source of inspiration for the artists and craftsmen who decorated churches. Animals that people often find repugnant or ugly have also been used as a source for the images of demons, the devil and all things evil. Elements of bats, snakes, lizards and goats have been heavily used to described the form of these creatures of the underworld.

A few days ago we were in Peterborough Cathedral where I paused in front of a window in St Benedict's Chapel in the south transept chapel that was a work from 1958 of the stained glass artist, William Thomas Carter Shapland. The whole composition - clearly drawn, colourful figures in settings placed in clear glass - was quite typical of many practitioners of the mid-century. What caught my eye was his scene showing Hell below the main figure. It featured a crow (raven?) with bread in its beak, a snake slithering out of a broken jar, flames and three colourful demons. These were not all alike, varying in colour especially. Their heads were inspired by goats (beards and horns), bats (ears) and reptiles (scales and dragon's tail). What particularly surprised me about these three was the brightness of the colours used for their bodies. It matched the brightness elsewhere in the window, but eschewed the more subdued colours and darker tones frequently reserved for such subjects.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 100mm (200mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200 sec
ISO:500
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Not better, just different

click photo to enlarge
There are two basic approaches to starting a business - offer something that hasn't been offered before, or do something that is already on offer, but do it better. Those two stratagems also apply to photography it seems. There are many photographers who crave novelty in their subjects, needing to shoot that which they have never shot before. And others - I include myself in this group - do a lot of photography that involves re-shooting a subject in different light, weather, time of year etc. In recent years I've taken quite a few shots of the Humber Bridge because I've driven over it and lingered around it every couple of months. The different circumstances have been enough to produce shots that offer diverse interest.

Today's photograph is about the sixth shot I have taken of the Old Guildhall in Peterborough but only the second I've posted on this blog; four I judged to be not good enough. The weather of today's shot contrast markedly with the first shot I posted though the season is the same, and I like it less. But, it offers something that pleases me, particularly in black and white with the application of the digital equivalent of a yellow filter.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1600 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Photographing the commonplace

click photo to enlarge
Many enthusiast photographers, possibly the majority, spend a lot of time searching out extraordinary subjects for their camera, engaging in holidays and travel with photographic subjects in mind, studying the places and objects photographed by others, and even buying books and visiting websites that list the most photogenic locations for photography. By and large, that's not my way. Though I take my photography quite seriously, it more often than not comes about as a by product of another activity engaged in with my wife, be it walking, travelling, shopping, gardening etc. And, as I've said elsewhere in this blog, my photographic goal is not extraordinary subjects (though I'll photograph these if I come upon them) but an attempt at extraordinary photographs of ordinary subjects.

Photographing the commonplace and securing a good image of it is a very difficult thing to do, and if my experience is anything to go by, produces more failures than successes. But, when it happens, it is extremely satisfying because of the way the photograph reveals beauty and new interest in something so familiar. Seeing such subjects requires you to train your eye to notice them because, by their very nature, the commonplace is easily overlooked. What I find is that, for a while, my eye becomes attuned to seeking out these photographs and then, unaccountably, that facility declines for a period. I've been in a fallow spell for some time. However, the other day I saw this image (above) on the table next to me and, though I make no claim that it is extraordinary, I hope it's a sign of my return to this way of seeing.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (90mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Benefaction board

click photo to enlarge
Until the advent of the Poor Law Act of 1832, legislation that set in motion Unions and then workhouses of the kind seen at Southwell, the support of the poor was organised at the parish level and involved charity, bequests and benefactions made by groups and individuals. Many churches still display old benefaction boards that describe the money, rents, land etc that was given to produce an income to be spent supporting the poor. Often these benefactions were very precise in what they stipulated should be done with the money, and the fact that they were publicly displayed in church made the terms of the gift widely known and less open to abuse.

The example shown above is displayed in the church of St Peter at Barton upon Humber in Lincolnshire. It appears to date from the eighteenth century and is more ornate than many, but is quite typical in terms of what the benefactor stipulates. Though the spelling isn't quite standardised, abbreviations abound, and initial "s" can be confused with "f", it is still quite easy to read. I hope you enjoy doing so.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (90mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5
Shutter Speed: 1/100 sec
ISO:1000
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Poppies and contre jour

click photo to enlarge
Light through petals is a beautiful sight. During the summer months I frequently make use of the low sun of morning and evening as it slants across our gardens, lighting up the petals of the flowers. A those times of day there are also pools of deep shadow and the combination of illuminated flowers and shade makes a striking contrast.

However, there is one problem with photographing contre jour flowers - the best effect is seen from behind the blooms because the flower heads are always turned to face the strongest source of light. Consequently, if you are a purist about such things (and I don't think I am) then every photograph of this kind has an unsatisfactory element to it.

Today's shot illustrates this up to a point. To achieve the striking red points that make this photograph work I had to be in a position where all the flower heads were facing away from me. In fact, it matters less in this example because the flowers are working as points of colour in a larger composition rather than being the sole subject. I took the photograph on an evening walk as we passed a field of oilseed rape.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 36mm (72mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Southwell Workhouse, Nottinghamshire

click photo to enlarge
A small magazine that I edit recently carried an article written by a man who was sent to the workhouse in Boston, Lincolnshire, at the age of 6 years old, following the death of his parents. What made the episode even more heart-rending was the fact that he went to live there with his younger brother but his siblings were looked after by relatives. It was an experience that the writer detested, circumstances from which he tried to escape, and a place he was glad to see the back of when he was old enough to leave.

I thought about this man's story as we walked down the path in today's photograph, through well-tended vegetable patches, towards the large workhouse building, one of a group that constituted, from 1834, the Southwell Poor Law Union Workhouse. It was our second visit to a building that was erected in 1824 for 158 poor people of all ages who could not, mainly through age or infirmity, support themselves. Most "inmates" were elderly but some were of working age and there were children too. From the outset a great stigma attached to being sent to the workhouse. People who were subjected to its spartan regime felt failures, and whilst there were those who went willingly because the alternative was homelessness, hunger and death, there were many who went reluctantly and looked forward to the time when they would be able to leave.

To my twentieth and  twenty-first century eyes the building looks forbidding, having all the welcoming character of a factory or a prison. Passing into the outdoor exercise yards, where inmates were segregated by age and sex, the penal comparison becomes stronger. Walking up and down the stairs from sparsely furnished room to sparsely furnished room - all very much the same - and down into the depths where food was prepared, the feeling of a prison was further reinforced.

The building is in the care of the National Trust, one of the buildings they have bought and opened to the public that is not a former country house. Perhaps, as I said to my wife, an antidote to the excess of their multiple mansions.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1250 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Fourteenth century door, Southwell

click photo to enlarge
In medieval Gothic architecture an arch that is convex below and convex above and sweeps up to a sharp, tapered point is very characteristic of the fourteenth century. Such a form became fashionable at that time and appeared in window tracery, tomb canopies, blind tracery, door surrounds, wooden doors and much else. It is called the "ogee" arch and such an arch is described as "ogival". Another term used to describe this "S" shaped moulding is "cyma recta".

We visited Southwell Minster in Nottinghamshire recently. It is a relatively small major church, cathedral-like, and is mainly of the twelfth century (Norman period) and thirteenth century (Early English period). As we entered the building through the north porch I stopped to admire the wooden doors through which we were about to pass. They were so clearly fourteenth century, very sculptural, and so well lit that I had to photograph them. The sinuous moulding that decorated the surface had ogee forms at the top and bottom of each cell indicating its date. However, that pattern, very like a net pulled taut, also suggested the fourteenth century. It too has a specific name: architectural historians call it reticulated (meaning net-like) tracery. Within each shape I could make out the worn forms of quatrefoils, four-leafed shapes also much used in Gothic architecture.

It was clear that the door had survived because of the shelter from the weather that the large, vaulted porch provided. However, the wear of everyday use over a period of seven hundred years was evident in the worn mouldings, splits, knocks and gouges. Sometimes on such doors the metal-work is also original, frequently worn very thin through long use. Many of the large headed nails looked as though they dated from the time of the door's construction. But, the door handle, though rusted and marked, hadn't the wear of centuries and it is probably a Victorian replacement.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 12mm (24mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/15 sec
ISO:2000
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Belton boat house

click photo to enlarge
I've long felt that the UK's country houses are largely stuffed with expensive tat, objects that serve no purpose other than to provide something on which the wealthy owners can spend their excess of money. Truly, shopping as a leisure activity didn't begin in in the malls of the second half of the twentieth century, but much earlier, on the Grand Tour and in the workshops of painters, wallpaper manufacturers, and craftsmen who decided that there was a living to be made parting the wealthy from their cash by selling them elaborate and ornate versions  of everyday articles, or specially created objects whose sole purpose was to be collected.

The last of the photographs I am showing from our visit to Belton House near Grantham, Lincolnshire, is a view of the boat house. This small building sits at the edge of a man-made lake that is surrounded by trees. Like much else at Belton it is more than it needs to be. However, it makes a nice eyecatcher in its location and doesn't quite scream "money" in the same way that the house does, even though it was designed by the notable architect, Anthony Salvin, in 1838-9 and is in the style of a Swiss chalet with fish-scale tiled roof and walls of basket-weave pargetting.

photo and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 42mm (84mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/125 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Enough is as good as a feast

click photo to enlarge
The purpose of our recent visit to Belton House, a National Trust property near Grantham in Lincolnshire, was to see the interior. On our first visit in January only the grounds were open to visitors.

As we wandered from room to room, taking in painting after painting, tapestries, elaborate furniture, ornate plasterwork, collections of objets d'art, hand-painted wallpaper, row upon row of books and the rest, I quickly felt sated and the title of today's blog post came to mind. The fact is, there was simply a superfluity of everything, and everything dripped opulence. I found myself wondering how many thousands of people had spent their lives in penury, scraping a living, hungry, dying before their time, so that the cosseted residents of this stately pile could agonise over whether to buy a Meissen figurine or one from Limoges, whether it was to be a Gobelins tapestry or one from a less prestigious source, or if walnut burr might look better than figured mahogany on the new console table.

I took a few interior photographs but was happier when we were outside once more. The gardens didn't induce the same state of mind and I took a couple of photographs of a statue that looked like Ceres, but without the stalks of wheat in her container. She was standing in some gravel surrounded by lavender in the Dutch Garden at the north side of the house. As it happens, today's title could also apply to the two photographs that I'm showing. I prefer the simpler shot over the wider angle view, even though it is a product of the foreshortening of my lens and not an image that occurs to the naked eye. On reflection, my feelings about this house may have been partly  influenced by the fact that in recent weeks we had visited two other National Trust properties that were on a smaller, more human scale. We are shortly going to see, for the second time, Southwell Workhouse. That should be a contrast!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Photo 1
Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 150mm (300mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/500 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Belton House revisited

click photo to enlarge

I first visited Belton House, near Grantham, Lincolnshire, in January on a cold, bright day when the shadows were long, the grass was frosted and the man-made lakes were almost completely frozen over. I posted a couple of photographs from that visit, one that showed the distant north elevation of the house in black and white, and one of the deer park tree guards. The other day we returned for a second visit with a view to having a look inside the building.

Before we did that I managed to get a second shot of the exterior, this time the south elevation that looks across the deer park. The trees with their guards helped to frame the building and the fleeting sun that periodically appeared from behind well-figured clouds cast patches of light across the scene that gave it more interest than the flood-lighting of the sun on a south facade can achieve unaided. What is depicted in the photograph is James Wyatt's 1777-8 veneer of warm, honey-coloured Ancaster stone over a seventeenth century structure. It occurred to me as I examined this facade that it looks better from a distance where its massing impresses: when you are closer to the building the detailing is insufficient to keep your interest.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/1000 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Burne Jones and Biblical names

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As a child I attended a Church of England primary school, the only primary school in the place where I grew up. Consequently I came to know more Bible stories than if I had gone to a non-denominational school. Like many children I responded to these stories as a mixture of history and myth because some of the things that happened in them seemed highly unlikely. I also came to know the names of many Biblical characters and was fascinated by some of the more unusual names that I remember to this day.

The three men depicted in this stained glass by the Arts and Crafts artist, Edward Burne-Jones, have names that were odder than most. They are Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, characters in a story about the prophet Daniel, who were thrown into a fiery furnace on the orders of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon and were saved by God, an act that much impressed the king. This glass, in the west window of the church at Middleton Cheney, Northamptonshire, is the best of a particularly fine suite of glass made by William Morris' firm for the building between 1864 and 1870. The contraposto stance of the figures, the faces, the deep, rich colours and the semi-abstract depiction of the flames are all characteristic of Burne Jones, and the quality of the glass is typical of the Morris firm at its best.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (32mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.4
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:1250
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Four Thirds macro on OMD E-M10

click photo to enlarge
When I used Olympus Four Thirds cameras I recall people being a bit sniffy about that manufacturer's 35mm f3.5 Macro lens. The consensus was that the Olympus Four Thirds 50mm f2 was better. At three times the price perhaps it should have been. However, what people often seemed to forget is that there are not many poor dedicated macro lenses and the 35mm f3.5 isn't in any way a poor lens. In recent years I used the Canon 100mm f2.8 L IS Macro, a lens that is universally regarded as one of the sharpest lenses available, and the fact is I was pushed to see a great difference between it and my Olympus lens except in the "creaminess" of the bokeh: in that regard the Canon excelled.

When it came to putting together a set of lenses to use with my new OMD E-M10 (what a clunky name!) I considered the Olympus Micro Four Thirds 60mm f2.8 Macro. However, I thought it might be useful to see how the old 35mm macro performed first. So, I bought a £25 Chinese-made adapter, with auto-focus connectors, so that I could use it with the new camera. It appears to be well-made and works as advertised but is slow (as expected) to auto-focus, and "hunts" (also as expected) too much. It would be a lot better, I'm sure, on an OMD E-M1. But, using the E-M10's manual mode with magnifier it works extremely well. And in fact, when I used the Canon in recent years, I usually used it in manual mode.

I did a little flower photography to test the combination and while snapping one of my favourite flowers, a California poppy, this hover fly settled on it. The slightly cropped shot above is the best example I secured that demonstrates the resolving power of the lens/camera combination. And it was wide-open and hand-held!

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 35mm Macro (70mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/320 sec
ISO:200
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

A new camera system

click photo to enlarge
I've had several emails recently from sharp-eyed readers who have noticed that many of my recent photographs have been taken with an Olympus OMD E-M10. The fact is, I've sold most of my Canon "full-frame" equipment and invested some of the returns in Micro Four Thirds (MFT). I enjoyed the Canon camera and lenses but I never really came to terms with their weight. Had I been younger it might have been different. But, as someone who shot with an Olympus OM1 for about thirty years, and then eventually settled on Four Thirds cameras and lenses, it was perhaps inevitable that I would succumb and seek out something smaller.

I was very unhappy when Olympus pulled the plug on Four Thirds - everything about that system appealed to me. And, having been left high and dry with only vague promises about future compatibility of old Four Thirds lenses with future Micro Four Thirds cameras, I went to a different manufacturer for my gear. But, now I've taken the plunge, albeit in a smallish way with an OMD model at the end of its product cycle and therefore quite good value. I'll buy another, higher end, body in the fullness of time, one with both phase and contrast detect sensors that will fully utilise my Four Thirds lenses. But, for now, I'm happy enough with the E-M10 body and a selection of MFT lenses, though I must make some adjustments to make it choose lower shutter speeds. I'm also using a third party adapter with my Four Thirds 35mm macro lens, something that works quite well. The Sony RX100 will continue as the camera I always carry when photography isn't uppermost in my mind. That just leaves the question of my Nikon D5300 and the 14-150 lens. Will that still have a place in my armoury, or is that on its way out too? Time will tell.

Today's photograph is a shot taken with the E-M10 and the 9-18mm (18mm-36mm in 35mm terms) wide angle zoom, a lens I am particularly enjoying. It shows the interior of the medieval church of St Botolph in Boston, Lincolnshire. The fine Victorian font is by Pugin - not the famous A.W.N. but his gifted, prolific, though less well-known son, E.W.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 16mm (32mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f5.4
Shutter Speed: 1/80 sec
ISO:1250
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Pantries, larders and disappearing words

click photo to enlarge
When I was young the words "pantry" and "larder" were often heard. My parents used both of them, interchangeably, and I knew they signified a small room adjoining the kitchen where food was stored. Only when I was older, and picked up a little French, did I realise the derivation of the words - the pantry was originally the room where bread was stored, and the larder was the store for meat, probably initially, bacon. However, houses gradually stopped being built with this specialised room-cum-cupboard, complete with stone or concrete shelf, and food storage passed to a group of small cupboards in a fitted kitchen. Today, in the UK, we are at the point where pantry and larder are no longer everyday terms.

I was reflecting on this recently when visiting an old house in the care of the National Trust at Canon's Ashby in Northamptonshire. I'd entered a low, basement-level room that had been set out to show how it was originally a food store. I pondered whether it was a pantry or a larder and concluded that it was neither, being too large for such a humble designation. It was presumably chosen as a food store for its cool, cave-like qualities, a place where food suitably stored would have an extended life in the lower temperatures it offered.

The National Trust had set it up quite nicely with a good selection of jars and pancheons. There were even hares and pheasants (presumably stuffed) hanging from joists, and if you look carefully you'll see a couple of rats (also stuffed). The light and subdued colours of the room were very appealing and I came away with a couple of shots that I quite liked, of which this is one.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Olympus E-M10
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 14mm (28mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/30 sec
ISO:6400
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On