Sometimes.....

Sometimes....

Yay! A lith print I really like. Not sure it will please The Coelyns at the Oiseval Gallery [which is, I might add surreptitiously, well worth a visit] but then their standards are rather high. I dedicate the print to the late Mr Pushhkin who I'm, sad to say would have turned his pretty little nose up at this. Still, it's for him and everything. Always everything.

Obviously, it's Stornoway. And a man with stick - although the stick is not obvious in this scan of the print - obviously I meant it that way. I did, honest.

His tail wags no more

Mr Pushhkin

The delightful Mr Pushhkin passed away in the early hours of this morning after a long and fulfilled life. An itinerant gentleman when he strolled into our lives - matted and bedraggled - he quickly settled into home life hogging the the comfiest chair nearest the warmth of the Rayburn. Mr Pushhkin was a 'beautiful boy' who relished a good brush-up that transformed his previously matted hair into a shiny, soft and lovely coat. 

Although unwell, Mr Pushhkin always kept his sense of decorum and obvious regalness. Eventually he succumbed to his very advanced years and ailments while dispensing love and affection to the last. His actual age is somewhat of a mystery although we suspect he was born some when around the 1470s.

He will be sorely missed by all who had the pleasure of knowing him.

No flowers please; donations to Cats Protection. 

Whittled

I bumped into Donald the other day. This Donald above. He'd done a bit of over-whittling cutting into his hand between the thumb and forefinger after finishing his whittling stick. Or something.
Anyway, he's on the mend now

Heb Celt Fest

Eh?

Yes, yes, I went down to see what was going on. Although someone put a hex on my Soviet medium format camera and only 1 image appeared on this roll of film! And this was 'interesting' too. It illustrates the Festival through the eyes of a festival goer having just staggered out of the man-cresh in McNeils. I think it illustrates it all very well.

Ere!

"Cut out that racket will you"!

I didn't say that. I couldn't. It was a chap I hadn't seen for a while who has been living on his lovely little boat down the Uists way. Working, sleeping, that sort of thing. And learning the fiddle by all accounts. I'd heard Gerald's mandolin picking out in Crobeg [and here]at the Barbi some years back but didn't even know he sawed the fiddle - or whatever one says.

 Gerald; on the quayside.

Sawing

Gerald had been manning a stall promoting sailing in the traditional fishing boats we have up this way. All part of the Sail Hebrides thing that's happening while the Heb Celt festival is going on. Lots of boats going round, in and out, racket from the Festival tents and Gerald over by the fishing quay doing his thing. That's the sort of thing we have you know. And it's still dry up here!

Jubilee prepares; Broad Bay sails

I sat in that chair there, the one on the right listening to the catchy tune emanating from the fiddle. I can't say I recognised it but I liked it all the same. Then we chatted - we worked for the same company for a while but he wisely got out!

Eve and I did go to a concert last night as part of the festivities and were so impressed we came home at half time. I shan't tell you who we went to hear! A lovely week though.Look, below you can see it's proper nice. Boatee in front of t'tent thing which is in front of the old castle they are working on to stop it falling down. Wonder if them Proclaimer lads will bring the walls down - and then scram 500 miles away? 

Stornoway today

The lith printing has been getting in the way of snapping to be honest. Time I sorted the car after it wouldn't start yesterday [something to do with the key but don't understand], not walked the dog then listened to the Tour de France on t'radio, looked at the result of the tour of Poland where Ben Swift won, I didn't have any time or energy left to snap up let alone go in the darkroom again.

The Barking Dog; albeit on a quiet, barkless day.

Only I did get to go in Toots' proto-darkroom [aka; the garage glory-hole] later on to help move the piles of this and that from here to there and back again. In between here and there we laid a sheet of plastic and person-handled an enlarger - about the size of a small car and twice as heavy - into place. I suggested the wooden rails approach which even  Mr Toots acknowledged was a good one. You can rest easy now Mr Coelyne, the deed is done! As is me - feeling a bit cream-crackered this morning !

Ensconced in darkness

Flowers in the window

Ensconced I was. In there while the sun didn't shine outside for a change. It was Lith printing that took me in there. I love doing that process I must say. You just shove the neg in, shine the light on some old out of date darkroom paper, throw it in lith developer and voila', you have a print. If you take it out on time, and if the shining bit was just the right length of time and the wind in in the west that is.

Since there was some Forte Elegance FB paper lurking about the place, I used that for this print of the flowers - complete with horizontal line from the pinhole camera! Obviously, that's so no-one can fake the print.

Mr Pushhkin

Then I threw some Agfa MCC under the enlarger with a negative impression of Mr Pushhkin below. Look how it came out. Doesn't he look regal? I think he's probably royalty or something - I treat him as if he were anyway, just in case. I showed this print to His Highness Pushhkin and he indicated he liked it and could show it to others. So here it is.

Missed it

No, I've no idea what it is either - but I do like it. Came out of the pinhole camera today. Thought there might be an image of Pushhkin in there but no, there was this. To be honest, there was an image of dear old Pushhkin, but I showed it to him, he asked me not to blog it. I respect that.

I emerged into unexpected sunshine as I stumbled out of the darkroom today. Still not much rain here. I spent an hour or so making Lith prints - which, I might add, I may get round to showing here. If I like them when they dry.

Meanwhile I'm enjoying the Brits riding in the tdf with Mr Wiggins leading and Mr Froome in third place at the time of writing. Brilliant riding. I shall be listening to the results as they come in - on t'radio.

Sport

I notice my rant yesterday elicited little interest. Par for the course when it comes to the demise of human existence on this planet I suppose. Especially when it might mean we drive less, fly less and consume less to possibly subvert this probable disaster.

So, today has a little 'sport' going on. There's pretend sport like car racing in the rain somewhere in the UK, some sort of tennis going on with a Scotsman involved plus; The Tour de France with a GB based team leading the team section, a Brit [although born in Belgium] Wiggly Braggins leading overall and Brit Chris Frome [although born in Namibia] leading the mountains classification. Not bad eh? There in the mountains again today - a little matter of 157 kms over 7 mountains.

 The new house in the village 

The new house in the village continues to grow ever bigger! One day I'll take a proper camera over there instead of the Ultra Wide and Slim used to take this snap!

Sonja - OT.

My hand is healing well now thank you helped by excellent work by OT Sonja whom I snapped up here with the UW&S in her castle so to speak. I take Sonja's Barking Dog out for a walk sometimes and my 'dance teacher' is her young daughter Karmiena. How good is that?

The Barking Dog and my dance teacher

Weather

Fog

I've had to stop listening to t'radio this morning due to an over-dose of moaning thereon. And to an over-dose of tennis related hype too. The moaning was about the weather. There's rain in Engerland and Wales, lots of it I'm hearing. The racing car thing at Silverstone is in all sorts of trouble as the fields are flooded. It does seem a bit harsh on the event to blame them for this situation since this amount of rain at this time of year has until till now been rather unprecedented. The event organisers get little sympathy from me though since their sport hardly helps the climate change situation that is most likely fuelling these weather events. We have it seems, messed up the planet's climate good and proper and we will just have to suffer the consequences of more unpredictable and extreme weather events around the globe with the effect or rising food prices as well as damage to the infrastructure [ and heaven forbid; the economy! ]. There's a nice article here if you would like to read it.

In the Us there are terrible droughts and here on our island we have a small one too. North Tolsta has been named as a drought area on the island although I hear that the lochen that holds our water has water in it but the concrete header tank at the 'top' of the village has a leaking liner which means a lot of the water is going to waste. The water board in question are aware of this and apparently have plans to mend it - at last.

Mind you my former sport, cycle racing is not immune to accusations of enhancing the climate change scenario as for example, in the tdf - beset yesterday with countless crashes- has so many support vehicles that one could easily think it was a car and coach race! It isn't being help by the UCI - the world regulatory body for cycle racing -  trying and succeeding in modelling it's programme of events on F1 by 'forcing' teams to ride events all over the world. For example, to qualify for the Olympics, track cyclists have to qualify by achieving points at World Cup events - in Kazakhstan, China, UK and Columbia in this last series.

Well, I feel better now. As you see above on my snap - taken with the Ilford Sporti with Rollei400s film and printed on Fotospeed RC paper in the darkroom - that the weather here has been foggy for days - till this morning. Now the wind is blowing!

To cheer you up, go and look at the FOTO8 Summer show here.

Cycle racing

Waiting for the Amstel Gold [race].

I love bike racing. It's hard sport full of nere-do-wells and what have you as well as riders with egos as big as the Eiffel tower. And nice, clean riding riders with whom I worked in the past - some of whom are riding the Tour de France this year and others who are riding the Tour of Poland soon. It's all go eh?

Mr Windy has a fine cycling photo blog here that I have been watching and that inspired me to dig around and find some of my images. The famous Wiesmier neg filing scheme precludes me from showing TDF snaps - they are probably down the back of the settee - but I have two favourites for you delectation. Above a typical scene of Dutch enthusiasts awaiting the arrival of the Amstel race in lovely Valkenburg , which, that year was won by Frank Schleck - currently riding the TDF too. I love these kinds of cycling events snaps, reminds me of the excellent images in Rouleur magazine.

Mildenhall

And then to Mildenhall, home of the best grass track racing in the Uk currently. The racing is organised by Max Pendleton, father of current Olympic cycling sprint champion Victoria Pendleton - who used to ride this event a lot but seems to have other things to do these days! That's dear Eve racing too - in white. Grass track racing was not Eve's best discipline but she did love taking part and had such a lot of fun - as I did once!

Meanwhile, the village here is still shrouded in fog! But it is still warm.

For those who like such things; the top snap was taken with a Voigtlander Perkeo and the lower snap with some 35mm camera or other!

I shouldn't do that

I took the Zorki6 out for a stroll yesterday. He's quieter than the dog I borrow for a walkies and more interesting. Although Ghriet can be good company she produces nothing more than a smell and a pile on the ground. The Zorki on the other hand smells not at all. Not even that ex-Soviet yak-string sort of smell that they are so famous for. Even more famous for than the images they can make. That's unfair of course since the Zorki 6 with a Jupiter 8 is a fine box with glass - and it is with the Industar 61 as well. But I prefer the tarty looks of the Jupiter. That's just the way I am.

This is the .........

The sun was shining again. So much so it might be bordering on boring. Weeks of it now. There's even a little water shortage !  No wind here either but luckily the midges have more sense than lurk hereabouts. The road beckoned. The children out on the bikes all helmeted up - how sensible they are. When I was at that age that sort of helmet hadn't even been invented Eh?

Forgive me if my mind is shaking a bit while I write this but I'm listening to Late Junction on Radio3 and this particular squawkiness is, as they say down Manchester way "Doing me 'ead in " (McGoff 1999-2006).

And that bit is for.......

I have just noticed in the Guardian, that Marxism 2012 is soon on. Do let me know what happened if any of you are going. I would love to know! I mean, the wonderful Dr David Harvey is speaking ! He did my 'ead in while I was trying to 'do' me Phd. Which I didn't. 'Do' that is. Well, I did do it, I just didn't finish it. Got distracted by life and the enigma of capital. As you do. Anyway, start here.

Happy weaver

Going back to yesterday, all hot and close. Did I say hot?  I was wandering down t'road, Zorki6 in hand, pink satchel hanging from my shoulder. I stopped at the huge new house being built and had a thought. Eh? Me? Thinking ? Yes.

I stood and shot. Several times as it happens. Then the film ran out! Botheration. I was still walking down the road at this point.

I'm rambling on here. Suffice to say, I took the film home later and found these images from a visit of The Watson's from Saddleworth earlier in the year - out at the local tweed weavers!

Must not leave a camera with used film in it for so long. Ah well, nice surprise though.

A letter

Horse. Outside.

Dear children,

I am as you know a little older than I used to be. A little frailer and somewhat slower and quieter too. This does not mean I don't know what I want. I does not mean either that you should not know what I want although that does seem to be the case at the moment.

When I sit by the door, it means I want to go out.
When I sit by my food dish, I want feeding.
When I silently shout, I am angry.
When I wag my tail, I am alive.
At all other times assume I want a brush or a fuss.

I am grateful for your kind hospitality but don't let it go to your heads.

Yours truly
Mr Pushhkin.

PS. Please note the spelling of my name.
PPS. Please no more pictures of me. Use a snap of a horse of something.

Sea.

Sea. And land.

This is what it looks like. Just down t'road the other day - and this morning as it happens. Whilst I was walking on the beach. With a borrowed dog. A noisy dog who doesn't know when it's time to stop barking.

See, that's clear water there. And fish in it and seals and all. And sometimes Orca whales, dolphins and sea birds bobbing on the top. They find it easy to do that. Moving this way and that, making a life. 

The ferry doesn't like though. It's stopped. Again, for rather longer than it's meant to. So, if you want to go to those mountains that wrinkle the skyline, you'll have to fly or swim with the fishes. And everything. Always everything.

Doing OK

Mr Pushkin

I mean Mr Pushkin is doing OK; our 640 year old cat who adopted us a few months ago. Despite a few health concerns, visit to cat doctor and what have you, it's love and will-power that keeps him going. We are very happy he does.

It's started

Window on the world. Well, on a wall at Fort George anyway

There we were, supping a glass of irn bru or something with The Artist formerly known as Jon who had come for a very welcome short visit. The ink was received with pleasure and later applied albeit unsuccessfully to my first Oilprint. Or Oilsmudge in my case. Eh? Then The Artist was introduced to The Crofter. Why not?

Whilst we were enjoying the moment, exchanging musings and tales of places been and peoples met, The Race had begun over there in Italy. Yes, Italy. The Tour of Italy cycle race for women. Brillaint. Wish I could be there to witness it as we have some fine GB riders who should do well as the race progresses.

Maybe not quite as well as the great Wiggly Braggins . He's doing another race in France for the boys and started as favourite. You can see what's going on here. Mr Braggins Sir was second in the prologue yesterday which is a whole lot better than winning it as it happens. Mr Cancellara who did win it is not an overall contender and, Mr Braggins' team will not have a yellow leaders jersey to defend. Complicated isn't it? Not really. Give it a look and you'll soon be hooked.

Meanwhile the Scottish based pro cycling team Endura are riding brilliantly and winning a stage in the Czech Tour. The Tour of Poland starts soon with another squad from Mr Braggins' team. Then in Venezuela there's another stage race starting just as the Tour of Quinghai Lake in China comes to its closing stages and where a pal from my Velodrome days is working as helper/gofor for the Iranian team I think! It's all go in the Pro cycling world.

I notice too that Ms Pendleton, she who once hoovered our stairs, is appearing in all manner of adverts for this and that as she nears her last race on the track in London. 

Here, I will go for a stroll in the sunshine soon!

Lovely peat stacks

This and last years Peats

Great lumps of  brown gold. Hewn from t'ground by the hands of a local crofter and neatly stacked outside their home. How cool is that? See how straight the edges are, how flat the top. It's still shrinking as it dries so it'll go more like it's neighbour in time. But it has a beauty all of it's own. It typifies the village where these things abound.

Taken with an old Koroll 24s and fomapan 400


BTW: if you get a moment, go and have a look at Bosse's blog. Wonderful alt photography

RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT

George: A Fort

The scone looked back at me with a quizzical smirk. "No, I am not a scon" it confirmed. The waiter had been scornful, scornful in that sconful sort of looking down the bent nose way at me suggesting that me, a mere southerner would dare to come to such a place. Well, I did. I sliced happily into the scone, lathered the butter, jam layering on top and scoffed the lot. My tum settled in satisfaction. The young waiter bristled like a prison guard about to bring his power to bear on the unfortunate inmates.

The gloom gathered. Dark walls closed in. An occasional Army bod in tracksuit jogged by, muscles hid under layers of warm clothing. An air of foreboding presented itself and there were no dolphins to watch, to lift the heart. Trudging across the square we listened to the electric talking device about this and that. More of that than this really. That's the sort of place it is, stuck out on the sandy spit in the estuary, cannons placed strategically o'er the top of the strong, thick and foreboding walls. THAT's the sort of place I mean. Old and everything.

Dupuytrens contracture

Eh?
It's me 'and you know.

See here 

Look, it's the campsite we wus at. There's daisies and everything. And water where dolphins sometimes play. Clouds too. Me 'and 'urt too. But it's ok now.

Homage to Newman

Do you know Arnold Newman? If not you can see his work here. I love his image of Stravinsky - so simple but wonderful and tells you all about the man. See that here . Seeing we were away on t'mainland for a few days and there was music to be heard as well as the Wonderful Dalai Lama to listen to, we ended up in a pub. Doesn't one always?

We supped our halves of  2.8 - which  is a lovely ale I might add, and watched as the other end of the room gradually filled up with trumpeters, trombonists, a drummer. clarinettist, a singer and a host of others I can't recall. 16 in all I think wormed their way in and set up amidst the tables and beer. They were,  I noticed - on account of the big black banner hanging behind the drummers mush - the RMT Big Band or, Rooty ma Toot BB. How good were they? Very good. [eat your heart out Toots - beer and big band eh? ].

Anyway, since I didn't want to fight my may through the flailing brass, fearing for my tinnitus the idea of re-crating the Newman/Stravinsky snap was put on hold. It didn't help that the pianist in the set up was playing an electric thing and there was no light of note so my little XA camera shot left handed to save my operated-on-right-hand was not the ideal set up to achieve such a shot. Mr Newman used a 4x5 after all. And lights  and had control of the situation and everything.

I noticed then the people around me and started snapping away. and now I have a Homage to Newman / Bacon. Eh? How'diDoThat?

Many thanks to my Bacon stand-in. I hope he was meant to be there!

Victoria Pendleton in Inverness

Yes, I was surprised as well. Last time we bumped into Princess Victoria was at the Velodrome in Manchester where I used to work. She'd been round to home hoovering our stairs as it happens. No idea why if you are asking but she did. I notice she doesn't mention the incident on her website; I must ask her why she has omitted it!

Anyway, we were on t'mainland living the high-life, camping by the waterside in the rain and gadding around seeing the Dalai Lama and all that when , all of a sudden up popped Victoria. Granted twas only a cardboard sign this time - promoting her new range of Velos for women. Was lovely to see her all the same and the bikes look great too.

Flowers; Ghioradail Pier, North Tolsta

Yes, we have a pier. Only it's falling apart after 100 years being battered by the seas hereabout. The end is collapsing although it's still a nice place to sit on a warm day. Like The Crofter.

Not that the pier saw much use as it was in the wrong place! Now, where have I heard that before? Some local people did emigrate to CaNada from this beach during the clearances but whether they used the pier for that - who knows? Still, I like the place. and so does this old camera - Voigtlander Bessa II with Acros100

another snap

Going to Scaladale. Nice eh?

I took the Hasselblad as well as some 35mm cameras this day so I used it. 

Write again

No, I didn't write anything yesterday. I didn't have much to say and, I have a sore right hand since the quacks cut it about the other day. Lovely bandaging though.

 Riders enjoying the view - and the tailwind.

What's not to like?

Big up to the cycling massive here on the island for raising monies for MS on their Saturday ride - and to the others too who rode and ran a race of sorts. A lovely day with a strong tail wind most of the way. Sunny too. What more can one ask?

I shall be writing more soon - once my hand is less sore. I the meantime I shall continue to enjoy the continuing good weather we have :-)

Charity ride

Finished

 On the route

 Finishing

 Eve at the end of the ride - but not hers

Happy finishers

Moz Art; A Requiem for Leopold Bloom

No Calypso

Mkgnao! Pushkin the cat said loudly. Or loudly as he could at his age. Which wasn't loudly at all. Hardly discernible really. But he bared his pink gums at her all the same. She watched curiously as Pushkin flashed his good eye at her, his sleek fur shining from hours of brushing by her.

" Does he want kidneys or giblets" She hears a disembodied voice cry from the kitchen. "We haven't got any" she replies a little tardily. [I cannot believe this . Eve's been listening to too much radio of late and Leopold Bloom has got to her. I mean, I know the book is interesting, the dramatisation wonderful but do we have live it?].

We'd been to listen to the Stornoway Singers. In An Lanntair you know. All glass, white walls and Norm sat in the bar. Hair spiked, smiled fixed ready for the greeting. We greeted him. As you do. The crowds were there, there to hear a requiem. Moz Art don't you know. Local musicians led by the lovely Cath Fish waving her arms like semaphore across the harbour in her velvet attire. The singers sang in time to the message. The band played too. Twas a grand old racket to behold. Fair sent a shiver down my spine and a tear to the eye. I pointed my matchbox at the sound. Capturing the soul of the evening, saving it for posterity. [While I sat on a book to help my posterior embrace the windiness in my tum].

And then we retired to bed exhausted and ready for refreshing sleep on a darker night then usual as Pushkin curled up on his chair below and dreamt the dreams of times past several lives no doubt but not nine not yet anyway.

Yes, it's colour. Of sorts.

Mr Crofter on the pier

It's not all black and white up here you know. The sea looks right loverly when the sun is out. So much so I loaded the Olympus XA2 with Chinese Lucky200 film and shot. Once through the sheep dip developer, I have colour. Well, a sort of colour anyway. The Lucky colour film is actually quite good but somehow the first image was, 'interesting' as they say. I didn't alter the scan as I rather like it that way. The Crofter doesn't always seem so off-colour as you can see here.

Eve, chillin.

On the other hand, I did sort this one on PS. I like this too.

Pier culture

But best of all, is in fact a B&W print of old Kodak Polymax RC paper soaked in sepia. Mr Crofter's coow. The texture arrived all by it'self!

Eh?

Proper stuff

By; The Artist [formerly known as Jon]

I just noticed the title of the blog again! After all this time I see it's supposed to be a photo blog. Whatever that is. I shall try to keep on track.

The Artist is now back from the Aland Islands where he was 'doing' an artist residency. Apparently one has to 'be' while you are there so as to 'see' your art which you may or may create there or anywhere else for that matter. Seems like a goer to me.

The Artist, being the nice sort of artisty person he is took a couple of matchbox pinhole cameras with him and exposed them to the world while he was 'residing'. One 'camera' was loaded with Polypan-f and the other with Kodak Finegrain Positive. I'd forgotten that so when The Artist brought them back for developing I took the homoeopathic dilution of Rodinal route and chucked them in together for an hour. As it happens, they were a tad o'er exposed but I took the liberty of printing this little gem - and toned it with sepia. I love it!

I just hope The Artist doesn't mind me posting this 

Over The Minch

I was over The Minch yesterday with Eve meeting up with a pal from my dental days. Yes, I had dental days back then. Back 20 odd years that is. Flippin heck, time passes quickly eh? Anyway, Derek and Carolyne had a dog with them. Look, you can see it here looking for all the world like she had been cut in half. Luckily, it's merely a trick of the light or something. The dog is fine.

 Dog on path

I took the liberty of snapping her up with my Holga. Why not? I snapped Eve up too.

 Eve in sun

Had a lovely day and all that. I finished the film off today - meeting Ginty for the first time as Carolyn did something technical to him/her. I have never been so close to a huge horsey.

 Ginty

Ginty and Carolyne

Lovely imperfection

There's something wonderful when an imperfect print looks just lovely. And to me, this is one of those. A lith print made Tuesday on Agfa FB paper.

Yesterday we were in Ullapool on t'mainland meeting a pal from years back and what a lovely day that was too!

Brevig