WINTER BLACK & WHITE OVER

The weather has been good so far this year, especially if compared to last year.

Winter changing to springtime 2024 – now that was a lot of rain!

This year the days have just got a little bit longer every 24 hours, and the sun has more or less shone throughout. Let’s not get carried away, it is not East Coast Australia or Southern California, it is still Britain, there are clouds in the sky…but I’ll take it!

So somewhere in this seamless transition, a line had to be drawn to stop the winter approach of only shooting in black & white.

This isn’t the exact last B&W shot of winter 2025, but it looks like the last bus stop on the route, so it’s quite apt.

NEWQUAY IN COLOUR

Despite the good weather, I haven’t felt an urgency to go out taking photographs. Might have something to do with using the good weather to paint the house exterior, plus the idea of not forcing it. Of course I am still keen, always will be; just don’t wish to turn it into a grind.

On one of my visits to the harbour, I had a great chat with a woman who had been enjoying the early morning sun with a swim. She was very interesting and commented on the gaps in a passion, pursuit or hobby to be just as important as the prolific moments – using music to illustrate her point.

The gaps between the notes are equally important to the notes themselves.

So I have found an increasing comfort in letting go and allowing space. Tides turn, the sun sets and rises.

Still, my camera is by my side and I find myself lifting the camera faster and just capturing glances, rather than being intent on composing a shot, or waiting and pursuing the shot I want. In this way, photography lends another facet of interest. Another approach, with the idea of there being no right or wrong. Just some photographs at the end of the day.

THE BIRDS

In this case, the seagulls.

Just a quick comment on an observation I have made so far in 2025. This maybe barmy and without any foundation, it’s just a thought I’ve had fuelled by my imagination after seeing a couple of incidents this year.

Every few years in school, there will be a year that is particularly unhinged. Somehow, all the loose units have gathered and escalated in bad behaviour to become uncontainable. That is what I have seen with the gulls in Newquay 5 months into 2025.

I get a sense that they are more brazen; blatant swoops and food steals, unflinching attacks, audacious walking among pedestrians and cars. It feels like they may walk into a shop and go on the rob!

The height of summer is approaching and I envision going to town with the sole intention of capturing the carnage.

TALKING OF FLIGHT

BLOG POST MAY 12th:

FLIGHT AND FEAR

Taking off from Heathrow in the morning light of a winter's day, looking out of the window to watch other planes queuing up to leave a cold England.

And then two weeks later on the return flight, circling over Twickenham Stadium before coming into land – the tan already fading as the cabin crew announce the late January weather conditions.

There was a time, decades ago, that I experienced a handful of years were I was riddled with an unexplainable fear of flying. I would sit, tightly buckled in, white knuckles gripping the arm rests, convinced each sound was a ticking towards disaster.

Strangely, the fear stopped after a very troubled flight between Jakarta and Singapore on my way back from one of my stays in N.Z.

It was a stormy night and every seat on the flight was taken, yet there was an eerie silence, with only the hum of laboured engines and thuds of turbulence making noise. There was a sense that something wasn't right, this time everyone felt it...it wasn't just me being unrealistically certain of an imminent crash.

On the approach to Singapore, the pilot announced with a stressed tone in his voice the decision to return to Jakarta. It was a Garuda flight – the national airline of Indonesia – so returning to the capital's airport made financial sense, in terms of the cost for the aeroplane's mooring and the mechanics needed to investigate the plane's malfunction. Financial sense, yes. Safety sense, no.

After a couple of attempts the flight succeeded in landing back in Indonesia's capital, and the tyres were now safely back on tarmac. Heartbeats started to settle, but full recovery was halted because no one was allowed off the plane. Dismay cloaked us all. Passengers clambered and squeezed around the windows and anxiously looked out, hoping to find an idea of what was happening – the portholes misting up as breathing got heavier with increasing fear.

Tropical rain lashed down and bounced off and around the plane's wings. Through the bad light, silhouettes of men in overalls could be seen scrambling about with tools on the wings, ladders and ground. A fleet of vehicles with flashing lights gathered around the plane. This went on for 4 hours before the uncomfortable news that Garuda were going to continue the journey.

The tension in the cabin of the plane was extreme as we rolled to the end of the runway before take-off. The deathly silence was only invaded by the scream of engines being pushed to full throttle. The whole plane rattled at high speed and the wheels left the concrete and hurtled us away from safety.

It became increasingly evident that something was wrong, but still we flew on over the Java Sea towards Singapore. Dread leapt from seat to seat and audible sounds of distress could be heard. We just wanted to land somewhere safely...alive.

Now the pilot made the nervous announcement that we were turning back to Jakarta. Several of the cabin crew started openly praying, families huddled and crying was spreading to every corner. Altitude was noticeably being lost and the jets roared and then fell silent, roared, then fell silent. Falling further toward the sea with each silence. We were so low that faces could be clearly seen on the boats we passed over, their expressions telling the story of this jetliner being in trouble.

Again, landing was not straight forward. Several attempts were needed, each one filled with horror and open wailing as the engines strained to slow us, before screeching with acceleration to abort another try.

Our final landing was with a loud bang as the undercarriage slammed onto the tarmac, overhead storage flew open and luggage fell, screams were drowned by the jets howling as we pelted down the runway, the entire aircraft juddering and thankfully slowing to a final stop.

After this experience I became a bit blasé when it came to flying. I never want it to be repeated, but there was something quite thrilling about it.

SURFBOARDS

Just a quick nod to surfboards. Still doing it, I have a new set of black overalls for work at the surfboard factory, they could be exchanged for an orange jumpsuit; I am a lifer!