2008. The ones that got away.
Many photographs never made it to the blog at the time they were taken. I am drawn to those taken in the colder half of this year. The clean lines. The light.
December. Christmas decorations. Taken in a local cafe.
December. London dawn. Awake early in a strange bed.
December. A commuter on the Tube leaning against a glass partition immediately to my right. If I were a palmist, he would have been offering up his life up for my inspection.
October. The neighbour's cat and the aloe plant.
November. Winter beans. Now sprouting.
October. Reflections, Durham.
February. Local park. Fog. Emptiness. Silence.
February. Detail. Water of Life Fountain by Stephen Broadbent, Chester Cathedral.
When we met, Relatively Retiring and I spoke about our respective travels. Did you keep a journal, she asked. No. And that is sad. In those days I relied on an excellent memory and an unreliable camera. Twenty five years on I understand that the former is neither trustworthy nor time-proof and that uncared for physical photographs eventually fade, are mislaid or you spill coffee on them.
And now I have a blog. It is a record, of a kind. Blogging has shown me the extraordinariness of the ordinary and the value of naming what is there. And that the quest for perfection is pointless if it leads to paralysis. There are times when you just have to shrug and press Publish and move on. It's still worth doing.
Happy New Year!