Quite a while back Katyboo resurrected the “Ten Things” meme. Although I’m doing a monthly sequence of ten things, I thought I’d join the overladen tumbrils and bandwagons rolling down the cobbled streets. So leaving out the inevitable choices of food, wine, cake, coffee, my wife, the cats, blah, blah, blah, here’s my slightly more unusual, and possibly controversial, version.
- My Cameras. I realised recently I’ve been taking photographs for 50 years, having started at around 9 or 10 with my father’s Kodak Box Brownie. It has remained something I enjoy. I wouldn’t claim to be a good photographer and I’ve never had any formal photographic training. What skill I have was acquired at my father’s knee. My approach has always been to take what I see; what interests, intrigues or amuses me. It is about trying to see things and make them into a picture. I have no interest in fashion photography, formal portraiture, studio and still-life work, getting up early for special shots, sitting in wet woodlands waiting for worms or tigers, spending hours in darkrooms or doing loads of fancy post-processing. None of these things do it for me. I’m happy photographing wayside flowers or just sitting somewhere watching people go by.
- Romney Marsh & Dungeness. The far south-east corner of Kent is almost wholly reclaimed land. This whole area SE of the arc of the Royal Military Canal running roughly from Hythe in the NE to Rye in the SW was largely sea until a few hundred years ago. The escarpment to the NW of the canal used to be the shoreline. Henry VIII had shipyards at Smallhythe on an estuary; it’s now 10 miles inland! Storms and the sea moved the rivers and built up the single bank of Dungeness — and the sea is still moving it about. In phases since the Romans man has reclaimed the marsh between the gravel and the escarpment as pasture for sheep and as arable land. I have ancestors who come from New Romney and from around the margins of the marsh. The area is dotted with delightful medieval churches, all with a rich history. And sheep. Thousands of sheep. Although fewer than there used to be. Dungeness is a desolate, windswept wasteland populated only by a few hardy souls, a couple of lighthouses a nuclear power station, an Army firing range and miles of endangered wildlife. It is one of those visceral and cathartic places.
- Nudity. One of the things I have to thank my parents for is a slightly bohemian upbringing where nudity was normal, doors were left open, and sexuality was normal, as were books and discussion. I was taken to a nudist club on several occasions when I was about 10; partly this was “educational” but my parents wouldn’t have done it unless it was also something they wanted to do. Consequently I’m comfortable with nudity and bodies — mine and other peoples’. Indeed I enjoy being nude and spend much of the time at home that way. I dress if I’m too cold (which isn’t often) and to save the blushes of other people. Nudity is natural, normal and good for you. Even Benjamin Franklin used to take “air baths”.
- My PA. No idea WTF I’m talking about? See here. [NSFW warning!] Viewings by arrangement.
- Pink Floyd. They’re just one of the greatest rock bands of all time. Think See Emily Play, The Wall, Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, Learning to Fly. Despite the inevitable rocky times the surviving members have gotten back together in recent years and are performing occasional gigs again.
- Pretty Girls with Maps of Tasmania. All at sea again? See this post of some while ago. Oh come on! Let’s be honest. What red-blooded (hetero) bloke doesn’t enjoy looking at pretty girls? And why shouldn’t they? And girls … Don’t try kidding us you don’t like seeing good looking fellas. We know you look at them. You’re just a lot more subtle than most of us blokes.
- Seaside. I love the smell of the sea. The sound of the sea. Warm sand between my toes. There’s always something interesting going on in a harbour, on the beach or under the cliffs. Just standing on the seafront having the cobwebs blown away is exhilarating.
- Sunshine. I always feel better when the sun shines, especially in winter. I suffer from SAD (thankfully only mildly) so winter sun always boosts my mood. And I love the feel of the sun on my back. But I’m not one for lying and toasting on the beach, despite my love of being nude, so you’ll never find me with a high tan.
Wearing Glasses. This is something else I’ve done since I was young — like about 14. I’m basically short-sighted, so I’m pretty blind without my glasses. Which is why I’m not a natural ball-player, despite my love of cricket and hockey. Contact lenses weren’t around when I started wearing glasses, so there was no choice: wear glasses or not read the blackboard at school. I hated glasses at first, largely because I had horrible frames. But once I was allowed to choose my own metal frames (like when I could pay for them myself) and have plastic lenses I got to like glasses. They don’t worry me. Most of the time I don’t know I’m wearing them. Yes, keeping them clean is a pain. But for me lenses would probably be worse; I’m not sure if I could adjust to them and this would be harder given my hayfever etc. — all the lens wearers I know seem to have continual trouble with them.- Being Eccentric/Outrageous. Yeah well you know this already, right? Being open about what I think and feel is, to me, all part of my role as a catalyst and controversialist; as is playing Devil’s advocate. Hopefully this introduces people to different ideas and new ways of looking at the world; makes people think; and thereby to helps them develop. I can’t abide being prissy and prudish; and standing on one’s dignity or unnecessary formality. I’m me and you take me as I am, or not. Your choice. At the other extreme, neither am I one to be disreputable and sluttish. I try to retain a certain amount of decorum; indeed professionalism even if it is slightly disgraceful.
Wearing Glasses. This is something else I’ve done since I was young — like about 14. I’m basically short-sighted, so I’m pretty blind without my glasses. Which is why I’m not a natural ball-player, despite my love of cricket and hockey. Contact lenses weren’t around when I started wearing glasses, so there was no choice: wear glasses or not read the blackboard at school. I hated glasses at first, largely because I had horrible frames. But once I was allowed to choose my own metal frames (like when I could pay for them myself) and have plastic lenses I got to like glasses. They don’t worry me. Most of the time I don’t know I’m wearing them. Yes, keeping them clean is a pain. But for me lenses would probably be worse; I’m not sure if I could adjust to them and this would be harder given my hayfever etc. — all the lens wearers I know seem to have continual trouble with them.


My Weight. What do you mean this counts as looks? No it doesn’t. I’d look like a sack of spuds whether I was twice the size I should be or not. I have this characteristic which means I eat too much. Not necessarily the wrong things. Just too much. And if I’m not careful I drink too much beer as well. And I seem to be unable to switch it off. Why can’t I be down to fighting weight and sexy? Even hypnotherapy has so far only succeeded in chipping odd bits off the corners. And it’s all linked to …
Depression. Wouldn’t I love to get rid of my depression. It is so destructive. And I suspect I’ve had it since childhood. I also suspect that, although it is probably multi-factorial there is a genetic component; my father and his father were both depressive. I do seem to have made some progress here as a result of the hypnotherapy. My depression is now much less (giving up work helped a lot!) and I’ve halved the dose of my anti-depressants. Maybe that one is amenable to being smacked on the head.
Patience. I admit I’m not patient. I never have been. Although again I’m a lot better than I used to be. I hate being late. I hate others being late, or dithering, or being stupid, or disorganised. I hate standing in queues. I hate it when things don’t go my way; I get annoyed and sweary. Gggrrrrrrr! Just get a life and relax will you! NOW!
I’m not quite sure how to sum up this next one. But I would like to be less prone to having my arse stuck in my chair, doing more around the home, helping and generally being more engaged. I don’t mind being inept with my hands and having ten left thumbs for fingers (after all my father had twenty left thumbs and he survived to be 86). It’s partly down to the depression, but I feel that is really only an excuse. But I would appreciate being able to make myself do more; things might get done then. And I know Noreen would appreciate this too.
Finally, I need to be able to let go; be less “in control” all the time. Everything I do and say seems to be controlled; thought out; calculated. There isn’t enough spontaneity; not enough emotion. I seem to be frightened of being emotional, letting my emotions out and just allowing my self to relax into things and go with the flow. And for some strange reason it feels as if it has gotten worse recently. Or maybe I’ve just become more aware of it. Definitely something I need to work on.
Biologists and philosophers have pondered for generations the ways in which our modern lives may be disconnected from our pasts, out of synch … When you look beside you in bed, you notice no more than one animal (alternative lifestyles and cats notwithstanding). For nearly all of our history, our beds and lives were shared by multitudes.