It is now almost eight months since I last had a cigarette and all cravings are a thing of the past. I looked pretty young for my age before but now I have youthfulized by about another five years I reckon. Skin is much smoother, circulation greatly improved and I have almost boundless energy and physical motivation.
We are sweltering in semi tropical conditions with very high humidity. At least we are having some sunshine, which is more than can be said for previous years, and even better, I am able to enjoy it with all of this free time. I don’t mind the heat so much as the humidity, which apparently is a very difficult condition for northern Europeans to adapt too.
Despite the preponderance of decent light (in the later afternoons and dawn) I don’t seem to be quite as active in photography as I should be. A project to capture my surroundings in a more unconventional manner has resulted in the production of a lot of rather twee photo cliches. In other words a Cheshire Life like rendition of prettiness, the kind of approach relegated to my general Prestbury page(s) — anyway not the intended results. I don’t have anything against prettiness mind; it is just that I had an idea to portray the village in a way that is more akin to artistic documentary. Not having the confidence to turn my camera on strangers or marshal them into interesting scenarios is a definite disadvantage here and it is certainly about time my photos had a little more human interest.
So many recent commentators and other (valid) critics that have expressed an opinion on my efforts seem to be suggesting that I have a knack for landscape shots so I may go and work on that a little more. By way of a slight digression I’m quite fascinated by the layout and artificial contours of the local golf course too, with its huge collection of arboreal delights. One good thing about (good) golf courses is when they are cared for or designed by arborealists or horticulturists and then become a sort of living museum of all indigenous tree species in their most splendid full form condition. Mottram Hall was a bit like that and I have never seen such magnificent horse chestnuts and copper beeches anywhere else, other than that of course golf courses are a waste of time — an interesting walk through the trees spoilt by too many Daly Mail readers no less.