The second canine in a row, though this one is attending to the world far less than yesterday’s specimen. In fact this is the second photo in a week to imply that this is somewhat like I feel — looks like that weekend did a lot for the energy levels, huh?
There are seven potential spectators in this picture, all present at Llanfairfechan Town FC in the later stages of a Welsh Cup Qualifying Round tie — five human and two canine. Fairly obviously, three of them are definitely watching the action, and they ain’t the three guys in the middle.
I hope they did pay attention in the end, because this turned out to be one of the better football matches I have ever seen. When this shot was taken the visitors were 5-2 up, but the final score — Llanfairfechan Town 5, FC Queen’s Park 5.
In flight from the photographer, specifically. My reaction: “Woah! Deer!” Point. Click. I claim no talent — this is Fluke Capture of the Year, for sure. It’s even in focus.
Well, I can dig it. I felt much the same way at this point in the week.
I’ve done plenty of work in archives, whether those of governments, companies or individuals (take Trevor Hearl‘s for instance: which I intend to revisit next month). Here’s mine. When I pass on, it’s this little tin that will contain my digital ashes.
One of those shots chosen as much because I thought of a neat title for it as for its photographic qualities. But let us continue, at least for a day, the orange theme begun by David Byrne’s entourage on Saturday night. Other ‘hotel, restaurant & catering linen’ options are available, I am sure.
It’s graduation season. Bearing in mind that the very minimum one needs to spend to get a degree from my august institution is in five figures, and for a 3-year undergraduate programme it is now approaching £30K (more, if you are an international student) just in fees — you’d think the UoM might just give them their gowns to keep, as with a wedding dress. But no.
Sunday, not exactly a ‘day of rest’, as there was work to do in the garden, work which resulted in me becoming covered in little sticky seed-balls — whomever invented Velcro must have been inspired by them. I pick the shot also for the surprisingly rugged little landscape formed by my clothing (with the knee mountain rising in the background). The jumper was destined for the washing machine soon afterwards, though.
For someone who is now 74 years of age, David Byrne — who is the white-haired chap with the guitar to the lower right — can certainly still put on a show, one that I, personally, have waited some forty years to see. It’s a shame he and his former Talking Heads colleagues have belied the name of the band and not spoken to each other since about 1991 but the orange-clad, sprightly young(er) things on stage with him at the Piece Hall last night were a wholly adequate substitute. So look! It’s David Byrne….!
Perhaps I’m spending too long indoors but this does evoke a caterpillar for me — including the cigarette, a connection maybe only subconscious when I took the shot, but which Tenniel’s Alice in Wonderland illustration makes more clear the following morning.
Being 42 
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