I added quite a lot to my photographic archive on Wednesday. I now have a fine selection of shots of water where a bird just dived (particularly the dabchick), a number of new shots of empty twigs where birds just flew off, and some good ones of partial birds. The Starlings were excellent for that on Wednesday as they were close and quick. Added to my framing difficulties there was also the issue of the sun. It was at an angle where i couldn’t see what I was photographing, but I was getting a great reflection of a bearded elderly man muttering to himself. Take away the camera and add a can of strong drink and you would have the archetypal man sitting in a park shouting at the birds.
It is a worry.
They say that civilisation is only skin deep, and you can see that once a rumour gets round about a shortage of toilet rolls, but you can at least look at it happening and comfort yourself with the thought that it is “other people”. Examine yourself using the “sitting in the park” test and the result does not look quite so far from home.
When I had a junk shop on one of Nottingham’s mess salubrious thoroughfares (Mansfield Road a few hundred yards up from the Victoria Centre if you are local) we had a bus stop outside, that was a regular haunt of street drinkers. One of them used to fascinate me, because he always arrived with a large pack of sandwiches wrapped in foil.I assume he was in some sort of sheltered accomodation and they used to pack him up each morning for a hard day of picnicking. abusing his liver and shouting at pigeons.
Ah, the things you think about when your mind starts to freewheel, which is, of course, another story.