A Kiss On A Bench
An affair, perhaps, at lunchtime; a moment of tender passion away from prying eyes between two people who can otherwise never be together for reasons too complex to contemplate. Or, just possibly, two people on a bench with the view to them partially obscured by a bush and a tree, said two people not caring about the groups of people wandering past and, at times, appearing on the brink of ripping off all their clothes and getting down to showing the nearby birds and bees how the mammals on this planet get it on. For #BenchSaturday curated by +Rainer M. Ritz. Google+: View post on...
Right And Wrong And Right Again
What this man did right: he danced and sang in the rain at the top of his voice while everyone gave him a wide berth. What this man did wrong: he sang about it being the end of the world. What this man did right: at least it wasn't the R.E.M song; Michael Stipe would have beaten the living crap out of him. Google+: View post on...
For Want Of An Umbrella
Those clenched fists tell you all you need to know: yes, I'd captured a shot just as the man in the suit – damp from the rain and surrounded by people more suitably-attired to the conditions – remembered that his bag contained an all-weather sombrero for just this sort of occasion. He mouthed the word "damn!" as his hand struggled to release the protective headgear and I snorted with laughter. "All-weather sombrero?" I asked, innocently. "Yeah," he mumbled, getting wetter as the rain picked up in strength and the hat finally emerged from its carrier. "Dumbass!" I said, with a smile. Sadly, he didn't quite see the humour in the situation, growled, and moved towards me with a string of profanities about to roll off his tongue. Fortunately for everyone involved – mainly me, and not him to be brutally honest – an old dear chose that moment to wander between us. One lowered, exposed spoke on the umbrella she had remembered to bring neatly plucked out his left eyeball and all thoughts of swearing or sheltering vanished in a heartbeat (that heartbeat being accompanied by quite a scream, as you can imagine). The man in the suit spent the remainder of my lunch break hunting for his errant eye – a task not aided by his newly-acquired lack of depth perception – before I laughingly let him know it had fallen into the crown of his still-clutched sombrero and he'd had it on him all along. For #WetWednesday curated by +Susanne Schweiger and for #StreetPics . Google+: View post on...
Alone With His Thoughts
I'm alone with my thoughts, he thought, unless that man with the camera over there has a thought filter on his lens. But that would be crazy. I sniggered loud enough to make him flinch. I'm not looking at the camera. I'm just going to think my thoughts. Alone. "Oi!" I shouted. "Thinky McLonesome!" Ignore him, Leonard, he's shouting at someone else. Just think to yourself. There is nobody else here. Just you and your thoughts. "Leonard! Look at me!" I hissed. You're imagining things, Leonard. That's not that photographer. That's the other voice you can hear. Dr Green said he would return from time to time. Just ignore him. We all agreed: no more bloodshed. Let's just think our thoughts alone. "Sorry!" I shouted. "I didn't realise you were a recovering, schizophrenic, psychopath!" He gave me a nod then and a tight smile as the benches around him rapidly emptied of people who had suddenly realised there were places they needed to be. I decided to leave him alone with his thoughts. Google+: View post on...
Conscientious Bird
I never really cared for and don't know much about birds – I mean, I know they have wings, beaks, evolved from dinosaurs, and some of them taste like chicken – but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it when I see one of them carefully tidying up, removing some old foliage from the path so that I wouldn't trip over it or traipse any of into the office building. That's good to see and something that the youth of today would do well to emulate. Google+: View post on...
London Photowalk
Last year we visited America to see my wife's sister and, on Thanksgiving, two of her friends (a married couple) drove down from Virginia (I think) to show us around Washington D.C. That's the sort of nice thing you don't forget in a hurry. Subsequently, when we were told that Michelle – one of the friends – was coming over to little old England (her first visit) on a business trip and that she was coming over a couple of days early so that she could take in a bit of London we jumped at the chance to show her around. Thus it was that on Sunday I, my wife, and her parents took the train up to London and engaged in a meandering walk that took us from Liverpool Street past St Paul's Cathedral, through Farringdon, across to Covent Garden, down to Trafalgar Square (Sikh New Year festival was taking place), back through Covent Garden and the market (a gem of a place for a person with a camera), along the Strand, and back to the hotel to drop off one very jet-lagged, tired, full American visitor. Also: slightly tipsy. There may have been pubs along the route. Naturally, someone – that someone may have been me – also took the opportunity to take a photo or two (or two hundred), some of which are included here. A London photowalk, even if there was only one of me. In album London, Michelle's Visit (130 photos) Google+: View post on...
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