Who needs a photo?

I relish "From our own correspondent" - a hangover from days when BBC reporters were in the thick of it, not reporting from a hotel balcony in the country next door. I agree; a well-written travel piece is a pleasure. I have accumulated a number of old travel books and essays, mostly from the years immediately following the Second World War when travel was still an adventure and the world was being re-built from the ashes. They are, almost without exception, well-written and evocative of a different world.

If you follow one of the links in my signature, you will find my own occasional attempts at combining pictures and words on my Tumblr account. I think of these more as extended captions, but they are intended to stand very much as a piece with the photo, adding more depth rather than simply describing what you see and where it is.

Words are under-rated; we should use them more...
 
I relish "From our own correspondent" - a hangover from days when BBC reporters were in the thick of it, not reporting from a hotel balcony in the country next door. I agree; a well-written travel piece is a pleasure. I have accumulated a number of old travel books and essays, mostly from the years immediately following the Second World War when travel was still an adventure and the world was being re-built from the ashes. They are, almost without exception, well-written and evocative of a different world.

If you follow one of the links in my signature, you will find my own occasional attempts at combining pictures and words on my Tumblr account. I think of these more as extended captions, but they are intended to stand very much as a piece with the photo, adding more depth rather than simply describing what you see and where it is.

Words are under-rated; we should use them more...

Following up on people's footnotes is Not something I do very often - this was well worth it - Thanks
 
I agree, a well written piece can be a true pleasure to read, and often doesn't need photos. With my travel blog (see signature), I tried to imitate the look of old books a bit. The blog posts are also usually quite long. I did find that, for such long texts, the writing needs to be really good to consistently captivate the reader; and I might not be good enough a writer to accomplish that (which is why I make sure there're plenty of pics ;)) That's why, with some regret, my next travel blog will probably feature a larger number of considerably shorter pieces to accompany the photos; it'll probably be easier on the casual followers, but it'll diminish my abilities to tell coherent stories somewhat :redface:

But first, I'll have to find some time to finish the reports of my Africa trip now that the memories are still somewhat fresh...
 
It was early, too early for many but not for me. I am a small hours man due to Parkinson's medication. Parkinson's and the medication. Ahhhhh, I have you to thank for making me a photographer, and struggle to remain one despite the disease. A dichotomy if ever there was.

I wandered the streets of Stratford upon Avon, home of the favourite son of gushing thespians ("Henry 22nd dahhhhhhling, such a wonderful play, simply marvellous"), Just what was I expecting at that hour? Dogberry? Alonso? Horatio?....Cupid? Seeping from the cracks of the venerable old houses lining the venerable old streets of this venerable old town?

My camera was hanging around my neck, lumpen and unhappy at the impoverished nature of subject matter currently to hand "Oh, mate, take our picture". I turned and there they were. Two of Strtafords finest, unable to muster a "gadzooks" or a "hail my good fellow, taketh our likeness in your magic box of darknesseth" between them.

What shall I do once I capture your souls with my magic box? I enquired. Put it on twitter said one dressed in a long belted cable knit cardigan. He had had too much of the mead for my liking and he had a face like a slapped arse.. This made me want to slap his arse into a face, but it would be like slapping Val Doonican........your granny would hate you. Those of a certain age will know what I am driving at. The honour of Doonican or Des O'Connor is inviolate in their eyes. Mind, these are the same people that liked the unspeakable Jimmy Saville OBE (Old Bent Entertainer)

I don't do twitter, twitter or anything similar.......certainly not face thingy. Where will you out it then?asked cardigan youth. I can flickr it I said. What shall I call it to make it easy for your one brain cell between you to find it if you sober up.

Call it "fxxxing Shakespeare said cardigan. Fxxxing shakespearr it is then. It was uploaded thus and to this day remains my most viewed photo on flickr since. This shot must be a huge disappointment to the spotty youths or dirty mac brigade searching for "granny fxxxing", "pig/sheep/goat/horse fxxxing" or just plain old "fxxxing" when faced with cardigan youth and his mute partner. That "WTF" moment.

I have searched for "Fxxxing" myself..........all in the course if research of course, and the shot is pretty high in the list of thumbnails returned. If you are nervous or easily offended.....don't go there. If you are after free lorn....fill your boots. I was surprised to find such stuff on flickr......even more surprised to see that some things I thought might be impossible are....indeed.....possible.

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****ing shakespeare by petach123 (Peter Tachauer), on Flickr
 
Three Guys


There were three of us in the Sixties. Only one was a surfer. Two could play guitar the other paper and comb. Only two could sing. One was a Roy Orbison fan, two liked Georgie Fame. We hung around the beach all summer every summer.


Sometimes we took a break from the beach and went camping. Once it was Tenby. We were ever hopeful. It was an age of discovery and we soon discovered that Girls never went around in threes, (which is why one of us started to learn to play the paper and comb). Girls liked guys who played guitar. Some never learn.


Then one of them had a cousin come to visit


Care free days.


Today I visited the beach, the huts were all locked up but somewhere I could hear three ghosts laughing.

 
very nice set ReD. I feel like your memories were transported into my head.

Pete, your words are nearly as good as your photos.....and I love your photos. I had seen that ****ing Shakespeare shot in your stream before, but I enjoyed it a touch more with the story.
 
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