One of those Fridays that drifts through a day of working at home, then I find myself in the pub as usual, and it’s well into the evening before I start wondering whether I do, or do not, have a decent photo of anything at all. And, it turns out, I don’t. So this one will have to do, as it sums up this gentleman to some extent, and his ‘oldest swinger in town’ demeanour. But classy portrait photography this is not, I admit.
It’s been a busy week, and this morning I started work at 7.30, so there was no guilt at all about being in the pub, and on at least my second pint, by half past four. It was a little too early to get started on the shots…. OK, maybe I had one. But someone else bought it for me.
The place of rescue — a skip, it seems, destined for landfill. The rescuer: Dex, that’s him behind sporting the P hat. The ultimate fate of this bear? No idea. It will probably never be seen again. The red-eye effect makes me wonder if, in fact, this is some heavily-disguised surveillance camera.
Diamond is as much part of the Railway pack as anyone, whether human or canine. She’s getting old now, as you can tell, so is not out as often as she might be — something that will come to be the case for all of us, in time, I am sure.
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.
Our acquaintance Toby is something of a scavenger, the sort of person who will go through the skip outside your house and in five minutes retrieve from it a range of interesting items that you had no idea could be found within. What he has in mind for these various 3-D puzzles, who knows — but I do not think it involves simply putting this one back together.
If you’ve no idea what the title of this post is referring to then obviously you do not play cribbage. But you might be able to work it out. I get two for a pair as well. No, I am not playing solitaire — the wife has just slipped away for a moment. She won this particular game, 3-2 (we know each other’s strategies so well now that basically it all comes down to the luck of the deal — that’s my excuse anyway).
One of those occasions where it’s a case of — yes, I’ll go with that. There is nothing more to be said.
The glass of wine is not mine; in fact, nor is it Steve’s, sitting opposite, and, in part anyway, making his fifteenth appearance on the blog (thus coming in at one per year on average). You can tell it’s him: he’s the only person I encounter regularly who habitually wears this much jewellry. Drinks were just migrating to this point in space, well lit by warm sunshine. Shame it’s not the weekend, but possibly tomorrow will be little different.
After a run of travelling, today marks the start of a period to be spent mostly at home, and ended where many Fridays do, namely the pub. There I noticed that the old logs used, now and again, as bar stools have a rather encrusted look about them which was a worthy subject for illustration. In fact there are a number of regulars of the Railway who affect this kind of thing, with me probably among them, these days.
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