It has been oh-so gently pointed out to me (thank you, DB) that I did actually promise to post a series of photos from Majorca here. So, I remedy that now. It was actually such a pleasure looking over the wider selection, particularly as the trip was so idyllically work-free, in distinctly sharp contrast to now. Not that I am complaining, rather things are as they should be, which is wonderful. Still, the blue skies and warm oceans feel a world away as brown leaves sweep along the Fulham pavements I inhabit at this moment in time...
So here are a few memories - a blast of Summer on an Autumn day - some are cheeky shots taken of handsome strangers - particularly number three, which I just could not resist - others are just funny moments. The one that is all sparkly and white and pink is of a place where they harvest salt for cookery. In fact it's quite well known and fancy. Sold in Fortnums, dontchaknow.
The penultimate one is actually me, staring out to sea. Feels rather odd looking at that again, clad in knitwear.
Highlights of my week in Andalucía. Stand by, online coffee-table book freaks.
Ah, this last one. A Secret Squirrel taken at that Bullring - the one in Ronda which I have been alerted is the selfsame one in which Madonna 'did' the Take a bow video. This chap is a member of the riding school. The front view turned out to be as promising as the rear (though bars separated us, I should clarify. More's the pity.).
It's a rainy and miserable final day of February and everything is very workworkworkwork at the moment in the run up to my big trip in ten days or so. There's been a lot of screentime, not so much darting around. Yes, Mika. Yes, the theatre on Tuesday to see the iconic Eileen Atkins, about whom I have to catch up on this weekend, but everything seems a little labour-intensive. Even my weekends are spent in hard labour pruning and bagging up stuff in the garden since it is finally mild enough to do that.
So, with all this in mind I thought it might be worth digging out a selection of the photos I took two weekends ago in Dorset as a small antidote all of the above. Spring, and Easter, not necessarily in that order, are after all around the corner.
The other day I mentioned how this year had been massively characterised by live concerts. If that is true, and everyone, including I, particularly in this funny chunk of time between Christmas and New Year, is in somewhat reflective mode at this moment, the other thing I have done a lot this year is travel. Admittedly, I do go away a lot, but one of the luxuries of the self employed is that as long as a laptop comes too, anything is possible. Clients never need even know one is away. Or at least that is the argument I have put over the past four years I have been doing this. Anyway, this year has been notable. Glancing at my calendar for the next six months, that looks quite busy too. There's an absolute diamond (clue!) coming up in March. In truth, a bit of a run of it coming up in the next three weeks. But, let's look back not forward, at least for now: my idea had been to look back at the 'best destinations' of the year. Maybe with one or two photos. So I will do just that.
First: the turn of the New Year in Ely, Cambridgeshire
The mud flats on the beach in Norfolk, near Sandringham. That's January 1st in blissful gleaming (if freezingly cold) sunshine. I watched my friends get 'engayged' on the beach.
Skiing - Chamonix, February
A lot of mist and a lot of snow, confounding what everyone had said about last year's poor conditions in Europe. The memory of that will have to stay with me for a bit - I'm taking a year out from the slopes in '08. Shame really, as I was getting quite good by the end of the week. There's always another year...
Easter in Copenhagen - April
Despite having a stinking cold, I remember the city very fondly. Gorgeous (if pricey) food, friendly (and divinely sexy) men. But, dismayingly, just not the gay ones (I saw, anyway).
Paris trip number one... May
In which I experienced the divine bliss of Paris in the Spring. Something recommended to anyone with a pulse and a will to travel - the month of May in the French capital has it at its thrilling peak.
The sheer divine beauty of Tuscany - June
Every cliché came true - but especially when we drove down to Chianti - that's where all the rolling hills and stuff of mythology can be found. We actually stayed near Lucca (a couple of hours drive from the above). Lucca is beautiful, of course, and to be strongly recommended. But if you're after the terracotta tiles, olive oil and red wine (and most people are - that's San Gimignano above) find lodging in the south of the region.
Herrsching, Germany - July
What was I saying about National clichés? Every last one came true in the suburbs of Munich. In fact, the shot above was taken in the centre of the city, but I will never forget being served wienerschnitzel and gigantic foaming jugs of ale by a woman in lederhosen called Helga. Fo'real.
The day-trip to Edinburgh - August
An unexpected day trip on glorious easyJet to Scotland. It was really for work, so I didn't have much time to myself, but this shot was taken on a sidestreet off the Royal Mile, and when you turned your head there was a backdrop of sharp cliffs behind.
My real summer holidays began with a few days in Madrid in August...
Really my experience of Madrid was a solitary one. That's not to say I didn't make a few new friends along the way while I was there, but my plans had to change at the last moment and I ended up being there alone. It did mean I wandered the city and took dozens of photos, however, including the above outside a street café. Gazpacho strongly recommended. Speaking to anyone with the inevitable potent onion breath afterwards, is cautioned.
From there, I flew on direct to Majorca in early September...
About as close as you can get to Paradise - in Europe anyway. For me the Far East can keep their Palm-fringed Thai coves - this is heaven.
New York - November
A truly stunning week in the city that never sleeps. It's either that the experiences keep getting better or my ability to figure out how to enjoy the city becomes more acute. Either way, I am not giving it too long till I test the theory again.
And finally, a weekend inspecting a baby in Paris, my second trip of 2007, travelling from the new terminal at St Pancras, in mid-December...
A delight, but this blue-skied shot belies the truth, which is that it was the wettest weekend in Paris in human history. Still, my friends' kid was a delight, sleeps like a teenager and doesn't scream in the night. And you can't ask for much more than that.
Also, for what it's worth...
My most played song of the year Sophie Ellis Bextor If you go (from Trip the Light Fantastic)
My favourite song of the year Robyn With every heartbeat
My album of the year Tracey Thorn Out of the Woods
Ever since I was asked to step in at the last moment and take photos at a charity launch a few weeks ago, I seem to have acquired a reputation as a party paparazzi. It's quite extraordinary. It's like one of those things that everyone needs but nobody knows where to look. Till now. I feel a little like a photographing snowball. Following on from the first event, I collected a number of business cards from various 'interested parties', shall we say. And they (unlike design clients!) pick up the phone because it is important and urgent that I come to their wing-ding and be a shutterbug. Funny really. Obviously, and needless to say, there is no money involved. This sounds like I am a bit snarky and snippy which is ridiculous since I quite like the whole business.
As it happens, I wouldn't have wanted to consider financial re-imbursement (it would have been immoral!) the other day when I acted as photographer-in-chief at a rather unusual event, since it benefited Macmillan Cancer Trust. Their symbol is the daff, so the idea was that they hold a press-launch type bulb planting in Hyde Park, which I popped along to. My only slight concern was that if I minor celebrity were to arrive I should know who to photograph. I'm always amazed how people know who someone brushed with even the slightest fame actually is. I mean, my radar in that department isn't at all bad, but really, I'm A Celebrity... Get Me Out Of Here! contestants from three years ago? I needed briefing. So my host prompted me when the moment came, and so I found myself taking a ream of promo shots of Lord Brocket planting six daffodils.
I had one of my 'ain't life strange' moments. That's all.
It was a gorgeous day last Sunday, something I am trying to focus on and remember amid the dank, drizzly greyness of this week. The shot, above, was the result of a solo walk along the Thames to try and blow a bit of fresh air through my lungs. The view is up towards Hammersmith Bridge, which you can just catch in the centre of the image. Had meant to post this yesterday, but life has been rather hectic lately and the best laid plans, etc etc.
After dropping some friends at St Pancras on Sunday afternoon, I decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and walk through the backstreets through to Holborn. As I did that, I stumbled across a large period film set with dozens of extras waiting for their "Action" moment. I didn't see anyone famous, alas, though I was half-expecting Gwyneth Paltrow to appear with her hair in a 1940s chignon speaking in crystal-clear BBC English. Anyway, I took some photos, and then as I continued my walk past Russell Square and down through Lamb's Conduit Street (possibly my favourite street in London) I was inspired by the period look of the film set. So, here are the results...
About the Lamb's Conduit Street one - I do actually know the person who leases that building in the photo as an architect's practice. He has the whole building and a friend of his lives on the top floor. It's a beautiful building on the inside. With a very small loo. The bottom picture doesn't fit at all because it's obviously Liberty which is Tudor in style but I was passing on my way to look at the new iPod Nano, and I can never resist that place.
It was the three South Africans who pointed it out: "you British don't go much for flag-waving". This is quite true, of course, but was particularly relevant amid a Hyde Park filled with (supposedly) some forty thousand people going crazy with patriotic fervour and waving their Union Jacks like the posessed. The reason for all this semi-jingoistic wildness was of course because it was the Last Night of the Proms. This I viewed from a picnic blanket in Hyde Park with a gin and tonic (and ice) in one hand, while offering round the occasional gourmet mini pork pie and some rather gooey Brie de Meaux with the other.
"Of course," I said in a rather grand and pompous manner, "the last time I saw the Last Night of the Proms was a couple of years ago from my seat just to the left of the stage at the Albert Hall". This proved to be a slightly unpopular statement, with only the most perfunctory "oh, really. how nice" in response, but it is true, as it happens. That was quite a fantastic experience, even if as an audience member on that night, one feels more like prop, set dressing and backdrop to the orchestra because there are so many TV cameras panning in and out of every crevice.
Not the only flag being flown...
Rather to my surprise, the Proms in the Park was somewhat different. I mean, for me, the whole thing of the Proms is that it is classical music. That's the point. So, strike me confused when Will Young of all people was show-horned in as the grand finale before the big screens crossed over to the Albert Hall for the final forty-five minutes. Will? After Lesley Garrett and that lovely Italian tenor? Je ne comprends pas. As it happens, Will was great. He sang a full, eight-song set which wasn't anything new especially, but seemed to please everyone. We waved our hands in the air at Leave right now. That sort of thing. But for a show dedicated to poor old Pavarotti, young Will came across as decidedly lightweight. Literally. It looked like hadn't had a square meal in a while.
As I mentioned, that northern Classic FM favourite Lesley Garrett warbled a tune or two, with several gown changes. She looked marvellous, but is not someone I would necessarily be particularly keen to see. I am not a fan. Her operatic voice sounds rather like a sound effect, like these things are meant to sound, rather than something transcendent and spectacular. She sang a little Puccini, which was a good idea given the Pavarotti theme, but bizarrely mixed it in with the odd modern tune. In particular, she did Come what may, from Moulin Rouge. That's a song which never fails to raise a lump to my throat, and as I smeared a little more paté on a oat cracker, I became rather misty. But it wasn't just popular classic, it was just popular. But that's not to say I didn't enjoy it. Or Will for that matter.
Lesley Garrett's highlights
Will and Terry. I think Will needs to eat something... which is a shame because we had chocolate cupcakes left over.
As the evening reached its climax, we raced through Land of Hope and Glory, Jerusalem and that one that's the Blue Peter themetune with all those nautical songs in a row. Then everyone sang the National Anthem, which is always rather amusing when it gets to that second verse that nobody knows. Thank goodness we had the words on the screen, and forty thousand people did flag-waving karaoke.
Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor Come what may As it's supposed to be
