Big birds

OK so on to the cafe we took my friend Martin and his wife Kate to last week.

This is a nice wee place, in the middle of Downhill Forest and well worth a visit if you are in the vicinity.  It does a lovely strawberry sponge cake.  Indeed it does.

But be warned, it has birds.  Big under-exposed ones.

Imagine you're sitting enjoying your Skinny Latte (or whatever), casually look up to catch the sun's warmth and see that thing eyeing up your Raspberry and White Chocolate Scone (or whatever)?

And then his mates come along, to see what gives?

Next thing they're coming for the scone...

But really, it is a nice place.  The birds are OK.  Honestly.

Visitors

So a couple of weeks ago me old mate Martin and his lovely wife Kate came a-visiting.  I used to work with Martin at the University of Sussex, down there on the South Coast of England.  He's a good lad, is Martin and he likes his cameras, though mostly digital affairs.

As you can see, we all went to Portstewart, 'cos it's nice there.  There's Martin there, cradling his digital baby - rather on the large size it is, as you can see.  Note the sky - no clouds!  At first I thought that was the reason for throwing me off me exposure - as you can see I didn't let enough light fall onto the FP4+.  Actually, the truth is somewhat different.  I don't think it was the lack of clouds at all - I think I actually have FP4+ in the bulk loader and not, as I believed, HP5+.  Hence I've been under-exposing everything by close to 2 stops.  Eejit.

That was Martin outside a little cafe we went to (more of that another time, possibly tomorrow if you're lucky).  He must have stood there about 5 full minutes taking that shot.  Well, since there is a short feedback loop in these devices there was a lot of looking at the back of the camera.  And he had to change his camera's battery pack halfway through the shoot as well.  That's what happens with these sorts of cameras.

There he is explaining some button or other to Kate.  Very complicated, that camera.  Not just aperture, speed and shutter release, oh no.  Much more.

It's 1987 all over again

Q: Where was I 29 years ago?  A: I was in Somerset, or North Devon...somewhere down the West Country anyway.  This was from the time I lived in Taunton, teaching at the Richard Huish Sixth Form College - my first proper job.  The students were all so lovely to work with - they taught me a great deal.  A great wee town, Taunton - people were very friendly.  I remember thinking this would be the perfect place when I'm 50...slow, relaxed, lovely countryside.  Not much cop though when you are 20-something, hungry for a piece of the action and what have you.  Ah well - I can't say I would change many of the decisions I made over the past 29 years.  One or two for sure, but you wouldn't be doing it properly if you didn't make a few mistakes along the way, right?

There are some great places around the West Country - like Cheddar Gorge, for example.  Limestone cliffs, caves, stalagmites and stalactites and what have you.  If in doubt which is which, remember the old saying, 'Mites go up and Tights come down'.  I'll say no more...

All on good old Kodakchrome slide film, via the OM1.

I'm sure things have changed somewhat around Cheddar since 1987, but from a quick search they still have these rather strange structures below.  Hopefully they've had a lick or two of paint since then... 

If only we could wind the clock back.  For sure I'd take more photographs of people, places and situations.  You don't see the changes happening when you're in the moment, of course.  It's only when you look back you realise how much has actually changed.  Memo to self:  Get out more and take more snaps - it won't be like how it is now for ever, y'know!

What's is all about then?

The North West 200, that is.  Well, it's all about motorbikes on a normal road circuit, which they close to normal traffic.  That's an important bit, since they are going at some crazy speeds.  I tried to take some snaps to show what they look like...

I think I captured them rather well, considering I was holding the ME Super still and trying to open the shutter as they whizzed past.  I think I was down around f/22, which meant 1/30s, but can't be sure - the bikes were slowing down from somewhere around 200mph before a 90 degree corner about 300m up the road to the right.  I'm surprised I got anything at all, to be honest, since I wasn't even looking through the viewfinder, but watching as they entered my field of vision from the left.   Recommended as a good way to waste some film, for sure.

It was a bad year at the races, with 2 major accidents.  The first guy, Ryan Farquhar, was very lucky to have had a medic attend to him at the roadside, which enabled him to survive long enough to get to hospital.  He's was discharged from hospital following surgery but was re-admitted only yesterday and apparently remains seriously ill.   Ryan is a seasoned rider, 40 years of age and retired in 2012 after his uncle's death at another road-racing event at the Isle of Man, but decided to 'un-retire' a year later.

In the second accident, in spite of roadside medical help, the young man was not so fortunate and was pronounced dead at the scene of the accident.   All the more tragic given that he was a young guy in his first ever visit to the NorthWest200.   Malachi-Mitchell Thomas was 20 and was well respected as someone who knew what he was about - he had already won the Manx Senior Race at the Isle of Man in 2015 and was fighting for a podium finish at the NW200 when he crashed.

I have very mixed feelings about these sorts of events nowadays - there are several smaller road races all over Ireland during the summer season.  When I was younger of course I was mesmerised by the speed, the colours, the sounds.   These days I find it harder to enjoy the NW200 - I seem to be more aware of the dangers involved than anything else.  Clearly no-one is forcing these young men and women to participate - they are doing it because of the thrill, the adrenaline, the rush. I don't know - perhaps, as organiser Mervyn Whyte says, we should concentrate on making events like this safer.  It's a tough one.

Grandstand seats

OK, so not maybe grandstand seats, but they got close to the action:

This couple were crossing over the road between races.  It would appear they were well prepared, with seats and chiller.  Wonder what was inside the chiller...

These lot were engaged in something, probably flicking through the Race Programme...

...while these fine figures of men were mostly content to stand:

The restaurant in the background there was doing good trade in burgers, chips and, no doubt, filled sodas...

People watching

Right so, yer man here, taking a break from Marshalling Duty at the road races:

And then these two ladies.  Where else in the world would you find ladies of a certain age clambering over (or rather, under) a barbed wire fence, trying to get closer to the motorbikes?

I enjoyed the NW200 this year - not for the bikes, mind, more for the antics of the people who come to watch them.  The lady above there - the one with the shades, not the one on all fours - spied me with the camera and gave me a laugh and a wave, to which I responded similarly.  I mean, what else can you do?!

Filled Sodas

It is, as we discovered last Thursday, hungry work for those lads and ladettes spectating at the motorbike races:

When I see the immortal words 'Filled Sodas' it reminds me of a few years ago.  For those of you not familiar with it, soda bread is a traditional Irish bread, made with flour and buttermilk.  It's typically cut into triangular shapes, then cut into two and filled with anything you want - bacon, sausage, egg, any combination you like, or usually all three.

Anyway, a few years ago I was on my way to an important meeting (Ed: Aren't all meetings important?) and felt the need to stop for a bite to eat.  Normally I would have had my sandwiches with me, but not today - no, that would have been too easy.  I stopped at a service station which did hot food and ordered a filled soda.  Now you can count on the fingers of one hand the number of filled sodas I've had in the 50+ years of life on this earth - it would not normally be something I would go for.  But on this occasion it seemed like a good idea.  The lady doing the cooking was about to hand it over when she hesitated and asked if I would like an egg in it as well.  What the heck, I thought, why not push the boat out and have an egg in it - sure what could possibly go wrong?

As I sat in the car some minutes later and bit into the soda I found out exactly what could go wrong.  The soft fried egg, of course, squirted out all over the front of my crisp, white, business shirt.  And I was not near enough home to go change, the meeting was looming and I still had an hour to drive to get there.  To say that panic set in, was, dear readers, an understatement.

By good fortune I was close to the hotel where I swim regularly, so in I dashed into the changing rooms, covering everything up under a coat as I passed the receptionist and washed the shirt out in the sink as best I could.  Then it was a mad time to get the thing dry enough to wear (using a hairdryer), trying my best to hide the creases and marks that remained.  Eventually I got the shirt into some sort of acceptable state and I headed off to my meeting, where as you can guess I was not on top form.  Somehow I got through it, but it was a traumatic experience.

So, my friends, should you ever find yourselves in Ulster, beware the Filled Sodas.