A Gathering
They gathered en masse under the awning of the stall, grabbing a little shelter from the light but persistent drizzle. Even from a distance it was clear that they were crowding the proprietor of the street business; it looked… odd. "Do you have any large bags?" asked the woman at the front, her eyes scanning the stall but not glancing at its owner. "I've got some small paper bags," she answered with a smile. "They should be big enough for anything you buy here." "We're after large bags," came the reply after a moment's pause. "The more impractical for wandering around the streets with, the better." I watched the lady who ran the stall look around uncomfortably. She did her best to smile again and pointed at the signs that decorated her mobile place of business. "Handmade bracelets and anklets. Silver jewellery. That's all I sell here." "We would like to buy some oversized bags," one of the children intoned. The market stall proprietor looked uneasy and turned to address the first person who had spoken to her. "No, I only sell bracelets, anklets, and bits of silver jewellery. Things like that. Rings. You know?" "You do not have large bags that look ridiculously out of place here." It came across more like a statement than a question. I could feel the silence that followed swell suffocatingly. Abruptly, the group turned and slowly wandered off as one without a word, accompanied by the rough, rolling sound of their bags' plastic wheels clattering on the flagstones. Almost all of the group, anyway. The one remaining member stared into the eyes of the stallholder, holding that piercing look for an unsettlingly long period of time before she spoke. "Do you have any stupidly large footballs?" With a furtive glance left and right the stall's owner ducked down and reached under the main tray of wares. "A fiver each or two for eight quid," she half-whispered. Google+: View post on...
Chichester Tramp
What majesty there is in being a tramp! Fresh air every day. Watch the seasons change moment by moment! Well, every moment not filled with hunting through bins for discarded food and the butts of cigarettes. See strangers grow up, form relationships, and steadfastly refuse to make eye contact with you! To live a life free from deadlines and the worries of paying bills: is it any wonder that the position of tramp holds so much respect amongst the non-tramp populace? Look! Look at the space the tramp is given! It's not the smell (it's not just the smell, anyway) and it's not because of the random talking or wheezy shouting at passersby (although that probably helps a bit); that's the space that comes from pure, unadulterated respect! Maybe even reverence! Okay, probably not reverence. Could you see yourself living this life? If so then Chichester District Council want to hear from you. A surplus in EU funding has led to the permanent creation of a new role of Fourth Tramp (pay grade Z9) with the intention being to fill this position before the start of the next school term. Applicants must have their own halitosis but all other skills can be learnt on the job and no previous experience is necessary. Chichester District Council is an equal opportunities employer. – For #StreetPics / +StreetPics curated by +Tatiana Parmeeva and +Maria Roco #StreetPhotography #MonochromeWorld +Monochrome World Google+: View post on...
Portsmouth City Museum
Took a wander down to the museum today as there was something advertised as "a Saxon Invasion" taking place. It turns out that the reason that England isn't named after the Saxon people is that their invasions – a marquee and a smaller tent showcasing food, jewellery, and weapons – were often on the wrong end of a sturdy defence of kicking the crap out of the Saxons and telling them to get back to Saxonland (I'm not convinced that's where they came from to be honest). Still, there was a Sir Arthur Conan Doyle exhibition which was interesting (author of Sherlock Holmes as you know, a bit of a spiritualist nutball as you may know, played in goal in Portsmouth as everyone around these parts knows) and I even discovered that there's a garden area in the museum, that you can go into it, and that the view of the museum from there is actually rather splendid (as photographed). Very pleasant how you can live in a city all your life, visit a place numerous times, and still be surprised. Google+: View post on...
Buskers
Chichester is a reasonably affluent place and it attracts a lot of tourists on account of its… okay, I'm not entirely sure why it attracts a lot of tourists although it certainly does for some reason. Anyway, where there are tourists and locals with money there will be buskers, and in all the many lunchtimes I've spent observing and photographing people I've come to recognise a lot of these buskers. There's Guy Who Plays The Blues who's very good and doesn't really seem to make as much money as he deserves. Great voice, great skill on the guitar. There's Girl Who Plays Jazz and, again, she's very talented. Although miserable as sin. Maybe it's her jazz personality shining through. There's also White Guy Who Plays Reggae and he's an oddity; he's not bad, not great, but he just seems wrong somehow. The most successful of all the buskers is Guy Who Cannot Hold A Note To Save His Life which does make you wonder just what it is that drives so many people to throw money his way. They might be donations towards singing lessons, I suppose. And there are many more. Today we were pleased to experience a new busker to the scene and, after careful consideration, I've nicknamed him Guy Who Forgot His Accordion for now. Google+: View post on...
Innocent
You'd never suspect it was him just from looking. You'd probably not even believe it could be him if someone simply told you. But it is him. He's not the innocent old man you think he is. He's got that appearance of frailty that comes upon everyone in their later years but there's strength just beneath the surface too. He quite likely is someone's grandad but he's not just anyone's grandad. He moves among the crowds leaving a ripple of chaos wherever he treads and you see the perplexed looks on the faces of those he passes. No, they think, it can't be… Can it? It is. It's the Phantom Hat Gluer. Google+: View post on...
Farlington Marshes – Handheld HDR
I don't normally shoot HDR (although I do often create pseudo-HDR from a single exposure for monochrome work) but the urge to try it washed over me on a walk around Farlington Marshes yesterday evening as the sun was sliding down the western sky and the gentle off-shore breeze was doing its darnedest to blow away as much of the oppressive heat of the day as it could. Handheld, three exposures, Photomatix Pro, and only five minutes of standing around under the gaze of an ever-more-bored wife while I hunted through the menu options on the camera, turning dials and pressing buttons, trying to remember how to actually put the thing into HDR mode. Google+: View post on...
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