Dorset memories

It’s been fun working with Maddie on ‘A Dorset Year’ and at times a bit unexpected. One day she wants to talk about naughty 4x4s, next it’s a Day at the Races when I managed (quite by chance) to catch her and Mr Grigg winning. I was only interested in the typically English array of food around their car and ‘some English people’ standing high up to get a better view of the horses. It just happened to be my friends.

Recently she asked me for pictures of bluebells. I love flowers, so that was easy. And then off she went and talked about our local referendum. And democracy. And I love that about Maddie. You never know what you’ll get. But it will always be upbeat, whatever life throws at her. And now, she has kindly asked that I add links to my new photography microsites where, if you like my images, you can buy them directly from one of the best printers you will find The PrintSpace. They use beautiful art paper, from thick matt watercolour to glossy metallic ones. So here goes, have a little look, if you feel inclined !

Monochrome Landscapes of West Dorset :


West Dorset Memories :


And of course, flowers “Fleurs de Nathalie” (not just bluebells!) :


And for now, as Maddie would say, just about, au revoir !

Danger: men at work

There’s drain clearing going on in the village.

It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it.

There are cones and ‘men at work’ signs everywhere. And tsk, tsk, a big, bearded bloke in a liveried truck is using his mobile phone for texting as he drives up the road, his knees doing the steering.

A disembodied backside leans down into a manhole; a workman’s bottom you could park your bike in.

Cars are going this way and that, dodging the orange and white cones laid out like chicanes.

A traffic light stands, incongruous, at the bottom of the street, its red light saying quite firmly: ‘No’.

It’s a lot of traffic management activity for a small place. And far too much excitement for me. I retreat from walking in the fields and the bluebell woods, away from the singing birds and the sunshine and into the spare bedroom to get on with some work.




A referendum, street litter and nature’s show of bluebells

In such a contrast to last week, the air is warm, the days are clear and the sun is beating down, shedding that early May light onto everything it touches.

The sharpness and contrast button is turned up full and the fields and woods, trees and flower look like a painting. I am sure from the top field nearest Bluebell Hill I can see Glastonbury Tor waving in the distance.

There is magic in the atmosphere, as the bluebells and the lime green leaves of the beech trees complement each other beautifully. Or should that be compliment?

‘You look nice today, bluebells.’

‘And you, beech trees, look divine.’

Down in the village, there is a poster outside the polling station, used yesterday for the election for a new police and crime commissioner for Dorset (as if anyone cares) and a referendum on democracy within our district council (about which we should all care very much).20160506_075236Should it be an elected leader and cabinet-style of local government or the committee way of doing things, like it used to be in years of old? In a referendum sparked by local activists, the outcome is awaited with interest. Apparently, it won’t be until 10am  this Sunday that votes will start to be counted and verified. Why we have to wait this long is anyone’s guess. Perhaps it’s the leader and cabinet dragging it out.

In any case, I take down the Public First posters now the referendum is past. I am with them all the way, but can’t abide street litter. I know for a fact that at least one vote went against them yesterday because they had a poster right outside the polling station. I am not sure if that’s in the spirit of referendum/election protocol. They would be the first to cry ‘foul’ if a poster from the other side had been placed so prominently outside the place where people cast their votes.

I put my cache of out-of-date posters in the bin and then head up the hill for those bluebells and their intoxicating scent. I can hear the conversation between the flowers and trees the higher I climb.

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