....the art was in the nature, not in the photographer.

I have been a little tardy this year in writing anything, part of it is laziness, the other part is time, always the problem. I did see a blog recently and stupidly didn't make a note of the address, it was everything that I intended to do, so in the spirit of human nature, I will rip off his format to make mine better. Actually, his was a travelogue of the UK and he included pictures in his post that made so much more sense, so here goes.

Mid Wales.

I took a trip to mid-Wales. Apparently it doesn't exist but to my mind, if it's not North or South, it's in the middle. We went to the Elan Dams and reservoirs, a stunning location and filled with the mist and drizzle of a typical Wales day.
I decided I needed an Autumn picture, something that I've not managed take to my satisfaction, so far, but I could feel the picture rising within me. As myself and number 2 daughter walked to the base of one of the dams we passed a shot that I had to take. It involved water and rocks, not something that I do well but as I was wearing my hiking boots/trainers, very comfortable and 100% waterproof with incredible "gripping" so long as the ground isn't moist, slippery or sloping and despite my daughter's warning, I had to have the shot. Next thing I remember I was flat out on the rocks, my face inches from the rushing water, a shooting pain in my right knee. I couldn't stand as the rocks were like sheet ice so I lay there, floundering like a beached Whale (in Wales.....Oh, the irony!).

When I eventually did manage to stand, I got the shot and I have mixed feelings about it. On one level, it works, it has water and, rocks and wood,
it has autumn colours and is pretty but I am
unsure on it but I'll let you judge.

A short hobble and we were at the Dam. Cascades of trickling water spilled down the dam from predetermined holes creating a magical, delicate fall.

From here, I consulted my travel bible, "1000 places to see in the UK" and we decided to take a drive over the roof top of Wales. I wish I could tell you the names of the places but I couldn't pronounce them, let alone spell them at the time. It was a single track drive over peaks and troughs, through bleak moors and fertile forests, spectacular and lonely, 14 miles without seeing another vehicle.




Cumbria.

The next day was Friday so it must be time for Cumbria. The weather favours the bold and true to its word, it was a glorious day. The sun was warm and not too bright and Cumbria was as beautiful as it always is. The difference in a year is immense, this time I was a more capable and confident photographer. The first stop was for me to climb a dangerous fence with rusted spikes to keep out visitors. On tiptoe I could just get over but it did occur to me that the slightest slip and I would be a castrato but the results were worth the risk.












Cliched? Some would say, including me, but as these haven't been photoshopped or manipulated I think this is a most pleasing result and possibly the strongest shots I have taken to date, all credit to Cumbria for presenting me with the opportunity, all I had to do was be there and point the camera in the right direction, the art was in the nature, not in the photographer.

Next it was on to Coniston Water, the resting place of Donald Campbell. This was a trip at the request of my daughter who got very caught up in the romanticism of the man myth, not the reality.

It is funny that such a still and calm place was once roaring with the angry sound of speeding boats, ripping across the still surface at speeds that most of us will only reach on an aeroplane. No safety standards, just man and machine versus nature and his own fears, all held together with prayers and gum, unbelievable.

We stood at the side of the Lake, skimming stones across the flat surface, it was difficult to imagine it being any other way. I asked my daughter to throw a stone into the Lake so I could catch the splash. As she couldn't throw a stone within 100 feet of a previous throw, it took about 30 attempts to capture this shot.

The rest of the day was spent visiting Wast Water, Rhynose Pass and various other stunning locations.

The downside to Cumbria is that it is a lot to take in. Every turn brings a new marvel and very soon you are "Oh Wow"-ed out. It was actually pretty obvious in my photographs as well, the standards slipped as the day wore on, as I became too accustomed to the beauty around me, my eyes were not so easily picking out the shots.
Cumbria is a photographers dream and a photographers bane. Everything you could want is laid out in front of you, all you have to do is be there to point and shoot. The bane is that you feel cheated, in other places you can take some credit for the picture, for the creation of the picture. Cumbria brings the beauty and some stunning pictures to everyone without any effort and that in itself brings a surprising lack of satisfaction. I can't take any credit for these pictures, the only credit is the fact that I was there at that moment, the art is down to Cumbria.

Photography, Running and Nicotine.

Where to start.....my entries had been sporadic this year but so much has happened that I am now trying to dissect it all into manageable and interesting pieces. That is my problem, once things are done and over, they are history and it is on to new things.
Let's start with the sad news, the Swans on the canal died, Pon and his mate are no more and the World is certainly less of a place without them. I do miss them on my morning runs.
The CEO of the company I work for came to the UK a month back. He is a keen runner and around 20 years senior on me. He runs longer distances and has a strict training regime but we agreed on a 5 mile morning run. It was only a day or so before he landed in the UK that he mentioned that it would be a tempo run, he had to run it in 41-45 minutes. Now I hadn't run in a few weeks as I had hurt myself laying a floor, so at 5.30 one week day morning, I picked him up and we drove to Willen Lake in Milton Keynes. He suggested I lead. I did OK, I managed to keep a decent pace for 4 miles and then turned to him and told him to go ahead as I was flagging. I finished around 20-30 seconds after him in around 42.46 minutes, pretty much a personal best for me.

In the meantime I signed up for the Blenheim Palace 1/2 Marathon on Oct 2nd. My lead up to it was not great, not enough practise and a weather forecast that didn't bode well....extreme heat.

I'm jumping ahead of myself, photography. Summer has been dismal this year and my photography has suffered because of the lethargy and lack of time I had over the Summer. I did, however, pick my Dad up a few weeks back and take him to Puzzlewood and Tintern Abbey. The issue started a few miles into the journey, the weather was warm and sunny, I had forgotten a coat, a jumper and infact anything with long sleeves, I was sitting in the car in jeans and a T-shirt and that was all I had. My Dad was in a light summer shirt and jeans and my youngest daughter was in jeans and a jumper, none of us were dressed for Autumn or for the downpour that occurred as we reached Wales, the downpour that was in full flow as we reached Puzzlewood at 10 and stopped at 12 when we left.
I had never seen the wood in rain and whilst it was muddy and the going was treacherous, it was truly magical, an absolutely stunning place to see. My Dad was amazed at it, it could be tropical, old World or simply Lord of the Rings brought to life, it was the Land of Froud made real.
Tintern was the centre of tranquility, it is amazing how a building can be imbued with the peace of its long departed inhabitants. I didn't get any good pictures of Tintern Abbey which is a testament to my laziness as it is a place that is impossible not to get a good shot of. Anyway, a great and tiring day.

On to Blenheim.....I am a confirmed and dedicated smoker but I always vowed that I would quit when I started to train for a marathon. My direct boss, a good friend of many years, has been trying to lose weight and over dinner with the CEO, proposed that I quite smoking and the 2 of us train for a marathon in a years time. I agreed, although I suggested that as there was some weight loss needed and from 0-26 miles with dieting could take more than a year, we plumped on 18 months. So, Blenheim on 2nd, quit smoking on 3rd. Blenheim came and it was truly horrible, they ran out of St John's folks as people were passing out and/or puking from the heat and several people were taken to hospital. Stupidly I ran the first 5 miles at a personal best pace (a fraction over 41 minutes) and then ran out of steam. The heat slowly took its toll on me and I was seeing double, running slower than walking pace in a very unsteady line but did eventually finish in around 2 1/2 hours. I had slight heatstroke and felt ill for a few days. Roll on next year!

As per the deal, I am now 8 days in without a cigarette. I discovered Vape-ing. Some people take their Nicotine via patches, gum or inhalers as they quit, I bought a rechargeable e-cigarette. It even gives off "smoke" so you can tell yourself that you're still smoking. It is water vapour, and those that use these things are called vapers. There is no smell and it apparently legal everywhere but I don't think I'll be testing that out.
I have been running over the last week but this morning I finished the run and could actually breathe, it could be a coincidence or psychological but I felt the best I'd ever felt this morning and if I can get that feeling again after the 5 miler planned for tomorrow, I have every motivation to carry on. My love of running is renewed.

....we're being terrorised by toddlers.

As an adendum to my previous post, we had a notice come round at work today. Reception was closing at 5 and the carpark was locking up at 6 as they had notification that trouble was expected. They gave me a copy of the notice they were given, a message that had been intercepted and passed around. I write it out here exactly as it is on the written page:

Big link up in oldbrok tonight crickers field 6o'clock.. Gana hit mk hard trust.papers Wana chat sh*t bout how nothing happend saying we where all hyping?? Nahhh it's on to tonight! Get every one you no that's onit boi or girl. Don't put anything on facebook or bb n don't hype just meetup n hit mk hard! Pass the message on!

All of a sudden I feel a whole lot safer, we're being terrorised by toddlers. Is that even English? I didn't leave the office early, that note was too funny to be taken seriously, no wonder they're angry and feel misunderstood, if they speak like that no-one can understand a word.

Detestable bleeding hearts that bleat........

I have been feeling sick watching the rioting on television. I, along with every decent minded person that I have spoken with, are shocked and disgusted that this can happen in England, nothing in Wales or Scotland, maybe they have more respect than the yobs around here.
Calls for the army to come in appeared to me to be reasonable. There's nothing like drawing a line in the sand and backing it up with soldiers fresh from fighting insurgents in some godforsaken sandhole somewhere. Cleaning up the streets of the litter of our society would make them double heroes. But, and there is always a BUT, the rules would hamstring them, don't hurt anyone, you can use reasonable force but you can't detain or stop them. The courts would then give them all a slap on the wrist and send them home with nothing more than a warning, but then justice is dispensed by old grey men covered in dust whose only link to reality is from watching reruns of Judge John Deed. Shameful that the moral fibre of a society hangs on the personal beliefs of an extremely aged man, some would say age brings wisdom but when you want true retribution on the person that has ruined your livelihood and shattered your belief in human nature, surely wisdom dictates that justice has to be done and the severity of the crime has to be reflected in the sentence. During the Wars, looters were dealt with by the community very severely as it is more than theft when you rob your neighbours and destroy your own community. We all have problems, some more than others but things are far better now than they ever have been in history. The UK can be a great place to live, human rights have clamped down on discrimination, poverty whilst not eradicated is drastically reduced and education is available to everyone, as is healthcare and unemployment benefits. Sure, it's not perfect but it is as good as it's ever been for everyone.
Look at the last 50 years. 1950's recession, 1960's social unrest, 1970's punk, anarchy and racism, 1980's boom and bust, 1990's immigration and draining of the UK's wealth, 2000's War in the Middle East and threat of widescale terrorism, recession, 2010's still war but less of a threat of terrorism, immigration seems to be further from concern and the economy appears to slowly going the right way, what is there to complain about? I'm bored, let's go a loot some rich git that has his own business and pays his taxes that pay for my education and benefit cheques. Words are not enough to define the contempt I feel for the looters and more so for the social workers and the PC brigade that protected a generation from moral values. Detestable bleeding hearts that bleat on about the rights of the under privileged until we vomit up some sticking plasters to protect them all from reality and then we hear them on the radio, barely able to string an intelligible sentence together as they laugh about some poor shopkeeper they stole from "cos he was rich and had his own business".
Oi, you red brigade social workers from the 1990's that ruined the generations in North London, this is your fault as much as their's, maybe more.

My view is far more clear minded.....Live rounds, send them all home to their parents in boxes. My wife thinks that was a little extreme and suggested CS gas, tazers, water cannons and rubber bullets but none of that namby pamby stuff for me, IED's, live rounds, hand grenades, maybe the odd tank, gunships and put the RAF on standby. I wonder how far up the Thames you could get a warship?
I was talking with a friend today and we both agreed that the first politician to suggest the use of live rounds gets my vote for the rest of my natural life, god I hope it's not Ed Milliband or Nick Griffin!

PS. I do have an update to post on my escapades over the last few months, just needed to show my age and grumpiness.

More comfortable than a conventional bra.....

I often fall asleep in front of the television and wake up at some ungodly hour with what appears to be an advert that then runs on for hours. In my waking haze I get drawn into these advert films and keep thinking that I need one of "those". It is disconcerting to find out that these adverts actually work. Subliminally they must worm their way into the waking brain and lodge there, coming to the fore at odd times. As I stand in the shower it suddenly dawns on me that I need a steam cleaner or I'm running down the canal and suddenly have the urge to buy a paint tool that Tommy from the TV said was good. He has an honest face so it must be.
The worst one happened on Sunday morning. I fell asleep very early on the Saturday night and awoke to lots of scantily clad women. My first thought was that I must have rolled over on the remote control and changed channel but no, it was one of those advert films. This one was about the Ah!Bra. More comfortable than a conventional bra and very cost effective as you can get 3 (black, white and nude....whatever that is) for £59.99 including P+P! What a bargain. In my half sleeping state I was all set to call them and buy them there and then until it dawned on me that I'm a bloke.

The power of advertising!

..the shin kicking looked fun but brutal....

Ah, to be English in the Spring, going into Summer. There is something magical about England at this time of year, something that brings out the eccentric in us.
Unfortunately I missed the cheese rolling in Gloucestershire as it was unofficial and not publicised but next year it is on my hitlist. On that particular day I took my eldest daughter to Bolsover Castle. It is huge sprawling castle overlooking the town of Bolsover, quite stunning.
We actually went there to watch jousting. Now I am actually very sceptical about guys running around in fancy dress re-enacting days gone by, infact I would go so far as to say that I find it all mildly amusing in a disturbing kind of way so that wasn't really the right footing to go out and enjoy a day of big boys riding around on horses pretending to be knights. I expected something that I could get a laugh out of.
True to form, the castle was full of middle aged people dressed in period garb, showing the skills of the day and despite myself, I was drawn in. There was a blacksmith and guys making arrows and a falconer and his wife.
It was a breezy grey day that threatened rain so my daughter started to complain and I don't blame her but then the falconer started flying his birds. The Harris Hawk was huge, fractionally smaller than a Red Kite and not quite so pretty but it is a well muscled, powerful hawk. They flew an owl, very pretty but it appeared stunned by the light and noise of the people, but the highlight was a small Peregrine Falcon. What a creature, fast and agile beyond belief, acrobatic and aerodynamic, an incredible feat of engineering that we can still only dream about achieving. The crowd gasped and I stood there open mouthed, I had been gifted with a real spectacle that you had to see to believe.
The knights came out for the jousting and they were the real deal. Plate and chain mail reflecting the cold light, sitting astride huge great warhorses, plumes bobbing atop the their plated heads. I had no laughter because this looked so good. The actual joust was a true event that I recommend attending. It is every bit as authentic as you would hope. Huge horses throwing up clods of earth as they thunder together at a collective 50mph, the splintering of the lances as wood meets metal, it was a show for all. Roll on July 9th for the jousting at Kenilworth Castle!

Last Friday I left work at 5.30 on the dot and drove to Chipping Camden for Robert Dover's 399th Olympick Games. Yes, I went to possibly the oldest of the modern day Olympics. What a truly wonderful evening. Set in the rural and scenic Cotswolds, I can not think of many better ways to spend a balmy early Summer evening. Sitting on a hill watching the fun, humour and true Olympick spirit reveal itself. Away from the commercial event that we host in 2012, away from the big arenas and cities, this was the real Olympicks, for the people. No vast sums of money, no thoughts about economy or prestige, infact it is a true eccentric English event.
The Sackrace was brilliant with plenty of cheating going on. The King of the Hill events, standing long jump, putting the shot and hammer throwing with only 4 competitors was wonderful in its simplicity, the 5 mile cross country run was a little fast for me this year but next year I will enter it. The kids race was charming and the shin kicking looked fun but brutal in places. The Morris Dancing, fighting displays, small fair ground and various other events that happened all over, rounded off with a Bonfire and Fireworks and then a torchlit procession back to Chipping Camden, made for a wonderful evening. Bring it on next year, the 400th and I fully intend to be there.

A big thankyou to the English Heritage and the people of Chipping Camden for 2 best of British events. I am now scouting England for other rural English events that hark back to our heritage.

.....Penetrative Judicial Overseer......

I've had a turmultuous time more recently. I mentioned decorating but didn't mention losing my wallet at the same time my car was in for repair. Unfortunately I left it on a bus and was 20 miles from home at the time. I was left standing, an idiot in the street, a peniless pedestrian watching the bus with my wallet sitting on a seat, disappear round a corner and away. Fortunately it was handed in, after I'd cancelled my card and I collected it a few days later. The sense of helplessness and hopelessness were a shock. I had my drivers license, car insurance, Tesco clubcard, Costa card, English Heritage membership card and various other offers and points card things that I use most days, not to mention the pain in having to stand in the bank to explain what a moron I am and please can I have some of my money.
Prior to this, I had to get the bus to and from work as my car was in repair. Getting to work was a pleasant experience, I dozed on the bus, not having to concentrate on the road. Getting home didn't go quite to plan. I arrived at the bus stop with plenty of time to spare so I popped over the road to the Costa who took so long making my coffee that I missed the bus. I took a sip of the coffee and it was awful. As my mood was now foul, I stomped back into Costa, right to the front of the line and thumped the cup on the counter saying " Sorry mate, this coffee is unpalatable, I can't drink it."
The replacement wasn't much better. Give the Milton Keynes Train Station Costa a miss.

I heard in the news that a woman in Iran, blinded by a man whom she turned down for marriage has been given the option of retributional justice, as is the way in Iran, literally an eye for an eye. She was blinded when the man threw acid in her face and the sentence will be carried out by a doctor who will drip acid into the man's eyes. It all sounds quite Barbaric except that it is a law that if implemented properly and strictly, could act as a great deterrent. A murderer is killed, a thief loses everything and a rapist.........I think we may see a drop in sexual assaults. It would make for an historic CV, current employer: Government. Job title : State sponsored rapist or you could make it something funky like Penetrative Judicial Overseer, A few others did spring to mind but decorum is key!

Anyway, onwards and upwards, Summer is here and photographs to be taken.

.....we were the most important Nation on Earth for that one day.

I am a Monarchist, a staunch supporter of the Royal family. I guess that is to be expected, being English but I couldn't find any enthusiasm in the lead up to the Royal Wedding. I thought that maybe it was the fact that the Princes are both younger than me, maybe it is a generational thing or maybe the fact that I had been working flat out on decorating the house, running on empty and late into the evenings after work, isn't conducive to any feelings of goodwill. However cometh the day before, cometh the feelings of Englishness and the patriotism that only the Royal family can confer. Yes, I started to get excited.
Come the Friday morning, I was almost beside myself and cursing my stupidity in not going to London. I vowed to my children that we would be visiting London for future Royal events. I watched the television avidly, soaking up all the details, that proud feeling welling up in my chest as I saw our young Princes, both looking calm and...well...Royal. And then the Queen, looking sunlike in yellow, every inch the Grandmother and naturally the Mother of Englishness.
Once the guests were in the Abbey, I took my wife off to Coombe Hill for the 21 gun salute. It was glorious, a handful of people and 3 great Cannons. I did take my camera of course and stupidly found that my 2 usual memory cards were at home and my spare had other rubbish on it....I had enough for 1 shot.



The rest of the day was spent in that haze of feel good factor that only an English day can bring. The realisation that 2 billion people were watching this tiny green spec in the North Sea and that we were the most important Nation on Earth for that one day.
It does bring many things into perspective and for anybody in England that doesn't support the Monarchy, they must have felt pretty lonely, but it must have also given them pause for thought, if they are important to the rest of the World, what have they missed that everyone else hasn't? I also realised how integral they are to being English. Sure we have the occasional event that makes us all proud but it is only the Royal occasions, weddings and the Queen's Jubilees that bring out the real patriotism that is the definition of who we are. I would think that every Country has days like that, I know that other Countries have more reasons to celebrate their nationality but it is simply amazing that as our place in the World slips and other Nations supplant our standing, for one day we transcended them all and all because we have a Royal Family that have proved to be a focus for the World.....incredible.

By Sunday morning Obama had relegated us to the back pages, ah well, there's always the commemorative plates, tea towels, condoms and toby jugs to remember the day by.

.....I was told to get a haircut, I quit.

I have been pondering over the last few weeks. Working out the odd things that define character. Just to illustrate the point, back in Easter 1976, myself and my brother were presented with Easter eggs in cups. The cups each had a football team on the side. This defined the football team that I have been very loosely supporting for the whole of my life. My brother got Leeds United, I got QPR. I don't follow football, except for a cracking FA cup final in 1980 something, where QPR faced off against the Spurs and lost gallantly but if asked what team I support the answer is an automatic, QPR.
It made me wonder what other little events have defined my life. Growing up, I was always interested in the Royal Navy. I have never lived by the sea, there is no Naval history in my family (Army and RAF) but my Dad was always interested in the Navy. This is an English disease, the history of our Nation Isle defined by the Oceans and Seas of the World and our place in it. I actually got as far as joining the sea cadets, unfortunately this coincided with my discovery of heavy metal and when I was told to get a haircut, I quit. That was the end of my Naval career.
I also remember an airfix model of HMS Warspite. I suspect that it was my Dad's but it did start a fascination with that Battleship. She served in both World Wars and at the Battle of Jutland, steered 2 complete turns infront of the German fleet, becoming a target for every gun, when her steering jammed. After WW2 there was a plan to scrap her and a campaign to save "the Grand Old Lady" that sadly failed and she ran aground on her final voyage and was scrapped. It always struck me as a real tragedy that we never kept and maintained any of the WW1/2 Battleships, the huge slabs of armour and weaponry, the culmination of centuries of design and technology that ruled the World for the briefest of moments.

It is amazing that such little things, an airfix model and a mug can make any lasting impression on a life. The little things that define who and what we are. I will never be a footballer but a mug defines a gallant loser and I will never be a sailor but the weight of history says simply, that if I were, being English, I would be damned good at it!

A very belated Happy New Year.

It's been a long time coming but I wouldn't flatter myself enough to think you were hanging on my every word, although a friend did give me a little nudge to stop being such a lazy arse and write something.
As it happens, I have actually been writing prolifically, letters to the paper regarding the local councils. I have worked out that they will print a letter from me every 2 weeks so I now write to them fortnightly. It is all full of grumps and groans that I won't bore you with except to say that they are a bunch of incompetent morons and our local MP, David Lidington is a sycophantic kissass. It never ceases to amaze me how they can all defend the indefensible......'nuff said.

The kids are off this week, so am I. Monday we did our first big photographic trip of the year, Northumberland. First stop was Whitby Abbey. I have to say that it was bloody cold and what a desolate grey place it is, very easy to see why Bram Stoker chose this as the landing point for Dracula. I have a perchance for arches and the arches at Whitby are unrivalled. Classically Gothic, intricate and numerous, I was in awe. The weather was miserable so I didn't even attempt to take a picture of them. Some may say that if you don't try then you will never succeed, my view is that it is a simple matter of respect, such a work of art deserves the best treatment and I wouldn't have given it the best and I knew it, however I did get a good shot of the full Abbey, a little too manipulated for my palate but it was liked at home so my opinion counts for little.
Our next stop was Warkworth Castle. By this time it was freezing and the hour drive, on top of the 4 hours already driven was a little wearing but what a beautiful castle. It was one of the seats of the Percy family and there is a wonderful myth surrounding a knight that mistakenly killed his brother and the woman he loved and gave up all his worldly goods and carved a hermitage in the rock just outside the castle. I managed a distance shot of this castle but the result was not exactly as I wanted so it looks like another visit is due here in the Summer.
We ended the day at Alnwick. The castle was closed as they appear to be filming but a cursory view revealed a splendid, mammoth castle that I would very much like to see properly. It deserves more than a flying visit. I think that in the Summer I may have to visit Northumberland, stay the night and maybe go to Cumbria the next day. You may be realising, by this point that I can't settle, I need to be doing or else time is awasting, life is too short to do nothing.

Today was Somerset, Glastonbury and Nunney Castle. It was raining and grey but a good day all the same. I managed some moody shots of the Tor but I couldn't find the view that I actually went there for but it wouldn't have worked anyway as the Tor was shrouded in smokelike cloud, tendrils of wraithlike mist snaking around the hill, very atmospheric.
My daughter enjoyed the shops in Glastonbury and we even managed to find her a Gluten free nearly full English Breakfast (minus the toast and sausages), so she was very happy.
Nunney Castle is just special, small and extremely pretty, set in a moat in the middle of the village of Nunney. It is so off the beaten track that you will only find it if you are looking for it as it is not a place that is publicised at all, a village shop, a pub, church, a street of houses and this huge edifice, small in Castle terms but breath taking in normal life.

I find that I am driven. It was a bit of a surprise as I assumed that I would become more chilled out and relaxed. I am not particularly ambitious and pretty much know my strengths and weaknesses but it was the realisation that you only live once that slowly sank in once I really understood that it is more than a phrase.
Most of the time we exist in life, we don't really live it like it's a one shot deal, except that that is what it is. We generally live our lives in the belief that there is always tomorrow, like today was a pratise run. It was when it dawned on me that this is it, there is no practise run, that my thoughts and actions have changed. I have to seize my life and the things that I want to do, I have to ensure that my children understand that this is it, it's not a dress rehearsal, this is main event.
Perhaps this is why I cram so much into a day, why I can't spend all day on one thing, why my time has become precious. Perhaps this is all a sign of getting older and everyone goes through it, I have no idea as every birthday is always a first. Maybe the photography is just a recording of my life and the urgency is to makeup the missing years.
I suppose this is something that we all do in some form or another, some write books, others invent clever things and those with the artistic temperament create works of art, memorials to past lives, In this day and age, with the advent of the Internet, we all carve our little epitaphs to ourselves, knowing that in some small way they will always be there and one day, someone may rediscover you.

Let me leave you with this thought. No matter how great or small our talents, we have a better chance of immortality than Shakespeare had.