Over on my Twitter, I was challenged by Glynis Paxton to post seven pictures of my life. The rules were simple: one picture a day for a week; no people; no explanations; each day nominate one person to do the same.
Here are the seven photographs (all taken by me) I chose, in the order I posted them. Those who know me well will say they don’t reflect what I do and am. But each of them tells a story, or several, which I’ve noted below each image. [Click the images if you want large views on Flickr]
Day 1
This is our cat Tilly when she was much younger dozing on my desk. These are two things which are central to my life: cats and my desk. Apart from my student years and 20s I’ve always lived with cats; we had cats at home and as soon as Noreen and I got our own house we re-homed our first two cats (all our cats have been re-homes). My desk in the study is where I worked for much of the last 10 years before I retired (trips into an office dwindled to about one day a fortnight), from where I ran the Anthony Powell Society for 18 years, and where I still spend much of my time.
Day 2
Although I’ve never stayed in the Mermaid Inn at Rye (it’s very expensive) I have drunk there and it does trigger a number of memories and many stories. I love Rye, and have known it since I was about 4 years old and it is one of those places I love and immediately feel at home. The heart of the town (the area around the church and Mermaid Street) is still picturesque. Over several years we stayed at the upmarket B&B opposite the top of Mermaid Street (50 yards beyond the photo) and became friends with the then owners. The half-timbered building also speaks to a love of history and old buildings, as well as photography.
Day 3
I found this spider whilst doing some tidying up in the garden this Spring. I’ve never seen one before, so it was an interesting discovery for someone interested in the natural world. My new, expensive, camera meant I could get this capture easily without scaring the spider away. Although I’m not a great gardener (I blame my bad back) I do enjoy the garden full of trees and shrubs as somewhere for the local wildlife – from spiders to foxes.
Day 4
I called this photograph “Deckchair Love”. It is another which encapsulates a couple of “stories” besides photography. It was taken at Lyme Regis which is another place we both love and have stayed quite a number of times; and it was here that in Summer 1983 I started my recovery from Glandular Fever. In fact we like almost the whole of the South Dorset and South Devon coast. This also reflects my slightly zany sense of humour (hence, in part, the title of this blog).
Day 5
This is the cottage in Rolvenden, Kent where my great-grandfather Stephen Marshall (the youngest of five children) was born in November 1849. Until he moved away (to Ashford and then Ramsgate) the Marshall line had lived around the Rolvenden, Benenden, Biddenden triangle at least since 1700. They were AgLabs so moved around depending on where the work was. This is another area I love, spreading from the Weald across to Rye, the Romney Marsh and Dungeness.
Day 6
My final photograph is of a Dendrobium orchid. I like having houseplants, and orchids have both pretty and long-lasting flowers. Contrary to popular belief, Phaelanopsis orchids especially are not that difficult; if you buy (or are given) one don’t throw it out when it finishes flowering as they are easy to get to flower again (see my instructions).
Day 7
This is Stondon Massey churchyard in Essex. It is one of those quiet, country churchyards full of dappled sunshine and birdsong. It’s an area which includes another of my favourite churches, Greensted-juxta-Ongar. And I was brought up not far the other side of Epping Forest and the county boundary at Waltham Cross – somewhere else steeped in history which I should write about properly. But Stondon Massey is more than this. It was where one of my “heroes”, the Tudor composer William Byrd (c.1540-1623) retired in his early 50s. Byrd was a member of the Chapel Royal while being a recusant Catholic (he was fined a number of times) and Stondon Massey was close to Ingatestone Hall, home of his Catholic patron Sir John Petre. Byrd’s sacred works are the most magical music of that period. He may be buried at Stondon Massey; no-one is certain.
So there you are. Something about lots of bits (but by no means all) of me and my life captured in seven of my photographs.
Eccentric looks at life through the thoughts of a retired working thinker
