Birthday Girls

Several birthdays in early March.

You know who you are, dear friends.

Here's wishing you every happiness for the next year.

Happy Birthday!

February At Last

Having decided to part company with society as interpreted by the official media, the world seems a much happier and more plausible place.
The centre of Athens burning the other night was probably to be expected, as traditions of destructive behaviour are embedded in European life. The French ability to go on strike every time a little contretemps flutters is entertaining, from a safe distance, of course.

Official moaning continues, while real life goes on with the usual ups and downs. We have been spared the grotesque snow that made life so unpleasant here for two Winters running and it is pleasant not to be obliged to travel to a warmer place. We even managed some walks out of doors, despite the fact that staying indoors is more attractive.

At last, a good film camera has helped me to improve skills. Even though digital images are cheap and quick to produce, it is unlikely that the new technologies will achieve the detail and subtlety that film gives for some time to come.

I continue to read about contemporary fiction, without finding much to cheer the spirit there. One book bought as a gift for a friend turned out to be so grim and miserable that I could not give it to them.

It now turns out that I can judge which films will receive the most awards by how boring I find them. The only way I could escape the enervating experience of "The Artist" was to fall asleep in the cinema, as it was not possible to leave. Perhaps in time the arts will reconnect with the world that ordinary people inhabit.
However, I shan't be holding my breath...

Winter is Over

At last we have sunshine and bright days again. This is a reminder of how the garden looked in January.

Chins Above Water, As Usual

I find myself thanking my blessings, despite the gales that are raging through the British Isles, sending trees and electrical wires crashing.

A year ago we were snowbound and although I know that much of Europe has months of frost and snow every year, I find a sort of comfort in knowing that the Gulf Stream continues to warm our shores and give a sense of well-being.

Anybody who has described an average Winter in New York has ensured I have never been tempted to go there. Yesterday's post about staying home was based on experience, not fear of the unknown, btw. It is sizzling hot in Melbourne as I write and I have met many people there in the past who craved a brisk breeze after months of what I experienced as enviable warmth. Having never spent more than four months in a warm climate, I don't know when the desire for cold weather would actually have begun. A trip to Australia was punctuated, in every sense of the word, by a visit to Tasmania's Cradle Mountain, an experience that could not top the fear that Mont Blanc struck into my heart, but which came a close second. I share with every sensible person who lived up to the time of the drug fuelled Romantics, a healthy respect for mountains. Mostly I like them to be placed picturesquely at a very safe distance, but if compelled to visit closely, being at the bottom rather than half way up in the sleet and snow would always be a personal preference. Having given my ski gloves to a friend who wanted to wander around Dove Lake, I spent a strange day muttering to myself as I tried to get warm, bonded with the only living creature out of doors, a very photogenic member of the crow family and sat in the only place offering lunch and felt a strange sense of longing for Europe in the company of a Spanish artist. We hardly spoke, but he interpreted the unmissable belled and whistling plastic gew gaw that heralded the arrival of our food while I surprised him by picking out his accent from a thousand possibilities and getting it right. He drew in a small pad. I examined my photos with over zealous scrutiny, as there wasn't much else to do.

One of the more terrifying images, to my eye, of the great mountain, were Explored on Flickr, which has never happened much since, showing that struggle is part of true art. However, I'm happy to stay home and make dreamy black and white film images with my new Canon EOS RT, a camera that had a short lived success in 1989 and which seems set to become a classic, if those of us who possess the calm its pellicle mirror system sports manage to master it and it finds a wider audience. So here's to mystery, romance and flat terrain for 2012.

Round We Go Again

The New Year always brings a predictable flood of reminiscence and predictions from media sources. It can be extremely long winded and as a result I find myself looking out at a chilly garden wondering when I can muster enough courage to take it on again.

Sweeping leaves is a healthy pursuit, but not when it could involve catching a chill or picking up one of the remarkably efficient viruses that now lurk in every building in the land. Show the slightest weakness and these enviably resilient strands of dna kick in.

So I continue to change channel whenever the news comes on, watch old movies while planning a spectacular 2012. Since gardeners seem to measure time in aeons, not paltry swathes of twelve months at at time, I remember 2011 as a mixed bag as usual. The first half included a lot of travel, which would have once seemed an impossible dream. To visit Australia, Italy and the UK in the space of four months is not something I would complain about, but it makes being home a very valuable experience.

Travel was always a bit of an upheaval, but even though I rarely suffer home sickness or culture shock, the sheer inconvenience of getting from one place to another made me decline an invitation to an event abroad towards the end of the year.

Home it shall be, thankfully, for some time to come.

Happy New Year!

2012 is just round the corner and here's to success and happiness for all who visit here.

It has been an inspiring year for bloggers as we find our feet in the world of citizen journalism.

Winners all round...