The Day of a Busy Diary
Last Thursday was one of the busier days in my new and not very hectic lifestyle. If there had been a diary, it would have looked something like this - 1pm, lunch with Lucy in Penzance; 3pm (or thereabouts) set up tripod at some yet to be decided lonely coastal location; 6:30 tune into free webinar courtesy of one Mr N Danson, YouTube leviathan of this parish. Lots of things to occupy the afternoon and evening, but all of them fun and none of them destined to cause the rush of panic that five out of every seven days used to bring for most of the year.
Receiving an invitation to dine with one of the leading lights from the place where I used to work is about as close as getting the VIP treatment as I ever will to be honest. I’ve watched Lucy rise through the ranks towards the stratosphere over the last eight years in fascination at how a person can have such an enormous capacity for hard work and tireless enthusiasm. Quite how she keeps going year after year with such energy levels is a mystery to me, but then I always did have my eye on the exit door that I’d be running through as soon as the finances allowed. So bearing in mind her admirable work ethic, I felt doubly honoured to take up so much of her time over a three course early Christmas lunch after which I could barely move from my chair. By the time I forced down the last wedge from the generously filled cheeseboard it was clear that I wasn’t going to need any tea that evening. I can’t ever let food go to waste, so leaving things untouched on the plate isn’t in my lexicon – I think it’s something to do with the Irish blood and the potato famine.
Lunch over, and Lucy was preparing to deal with half a dozen new and urgent items that had cropped up during the almost two hours we’d spent catching up. I quickly decided that I wasn’t going to be of any further assistance and so I made for the car park, carefully concealing that still novel sense of jubilation that I could simply head for home while everyone else was dealing with the slings and arrows that would take them to five o clock and well beyond. I’d had half an idea to return to nearby Trevaylor Wood, but the combination of the cold north wind and the ever decreasing levels of foliage left on branches quickly snapped me out of what would have certainly been my final dismal attempt to capture autumn. I’d also considered continuing west towards Land’s End, but time would be against me and I’d be racing home through rush hour traffic later if I wanted to watch Nigel’s webinar. And then I remembered this place I used to go to all the time – the place I’ve inexplicably overlooked in recent outings. Perfectly located along the way home, it seemed obvious that I should finally return to Godrevy and the place that never stops giving. Behind me the sun was lighting its way through washed out clouds, softly diffused and promising a memorable sunset beyond the bluff above Carbis Bay.
Twenty minutes later, I marched along the familiar duckboards towards the commanding view over the long sands of Gwithian Beach and the west. As I chose my position on the clifftop the inevitable began to happen, the sun finding a thick bank of dark grey cloud to hide behind, taking my plans along with it after one single and poorly composed test shot. Around here such disappointments tend to happen more often than not, and so Plan B would have to be rolled into action, or at least it would once I’d decided exactly what Plan B was.
After a brief wander down to the mostly empty beach I ended up here, perched in the shelter of a crag beside one of the benches where we sit and watch the ocean on calmer and warmer days. From my lofty perch I could keep the tripod protected from the wind that was racing across the petrol blue sea towards the land. Despite the conditions, the sea was relatively calm so once more I went for my ND filters to smooth the sea and the sky and eliminate the distractions, and in the fading light I made a series of long exposures. One of the spin off benefits of taking six or seven minutes on each shot is that you can’t possibly end up with 582 of them to sift through like I did during Storm Arwen a couple of days later. It makes things a lot easier when it comes to the shortlisting and editing, and suits a lazy Thursday evening when you’re full of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.
Later on I sat quietly nursing a mug of spiced ginger and lemon tea watching Nigel talking about all the other things he constantly reminds me are important. I winced a bit when he expressed his current opinion on the Orton effect (even though I’m sure I lifted my version of the process from one of his videos), but apart from that I hoped I was on the right tracks. Now remind me again, subject, composition, timing, light, unicorns…………
The Day of a Busy Diary
Last Thursday was one of the busier days in my new and not very hectic lifestyle. If there had been a diary, it would have looked something like this - 1pm, lunch with Lucy in Penzance; 3pm (or thereabouts) set up tripod at some yet to be decided lonely coastal location; 6:30 tune into free webinar courtesy of one Mr N Danson, YouTube leviathan of this parish. Lots of things to occupy the afternoon and evening, but all of them fun and none of them destined to cause the rush of panic that five out of every seven days used to bring for most of the year.
Receiving an invitation to dine with one of the leading lights from the place where I used to work is about as close as getting the VIP treatment as I ever will to be honest. I’ve watched Lucy rise through the ranks towards the stratosphere over the last eight years in fascination at how a person can have such an enormous capacity for hard work and tireless enthusiasm. Quite how she keeps going year after year with such energy levels is a mystery to me, but then I always did have my eye on the exit door that I’d be running through as soon as the finances allowed. So bearing in mind her admirable work ethic, I felt doubly honoured to take up so much of her time over a three course early Christmas lunch after which I could barely move from my chair. By the time I forced down the last wedge from the generously filled cheeseboard it was clear that I wasn’t going to need any tea that evening. I can’t ever let food go to waste, so leaving things untouched on the plate isn’t in my lexicon – I think it’s something to do with the Irish blood and the potato famine.
Lunch over, and Lucy was preparing to deal with half a dozen new and urgent items that had cropped up during the almost two hours we’d spent catching up. I quickly decided that I wasn’t going to be of any further assistance and so I made for the car park, carefully concealing that still novel sense of jubilation that I could simply head for home while everyone else was dealing with the slings and arrows that would take them to five o clock and well beyond. I’d had half an idea to return to nearby Trevaylor Wood, but the combination of the cold north wind and the ever decreasing levels of foliage left on branches quickly snapped me out of what would have certainly been my final dismal attempt to capture autumn. I’d also considered continuing west towards Land’s End, but time would be against me and I’d be racing home through rush hour traffic later if I wanted to watch Nigel’s webinar. And then I remembered this place I used to go to all the time – the place I’ve inexplicably overlooked in recent outings. Perfectly located along the way home, it seemed obvious that I should finally return to Godrevy and the place that never stops giving. Behind me the sun was lighting its way through washed out clouds, softly diffused and promising a memorable sunset beyond the bluff above Carbis Bay.
Twenty minutes later, I marched along the familiar duckboards towards the commanding view over the long sands of Gwithian Beach and the west. As I chose my position on the clifftop the inevitable began to happen, the sun finding a thick bank of dark grey cloud to hide behind, taking my plans along with it after one single and poorly composed test shot. Around here such disappointments tend to happen more often than not, and so Plan B would have to be rolled into action, or at least it would once I’d decided exactly what Plan B was.
After a brief wander down to the mostly empty beach I ended up here, perched in the shelter of a crag beside one of the benches where we sit and watch the ocean on calmer and warmer days. From my lofty perch I could keep the tripod protected from the wind that was racing across the petrol blue sea towards the land. Despite the conditions, the sea was relatively calm so once more I went for my ND filters to smooth the sea and the sky and eliminate the distractions, and in the fading light I made a series of long exposures. One of the spin off benefits of taking six or seven minutes on each shot is that you can’t possibly end up with 582 of them to sift through like I did during Storm Arwen a couple of days later. It makes things a lot easier when it comes to the shortlisting and editing, and suits a lazy Thursday evening when you’re full of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.
Later on I sat quietly nursing a mug of spiced ginger and lemon tea watching Nigel talking about all the other things he constantly reminds me are important. I winced a bit when he expressed his current opinion on the Orton effect (even though I’m sure I lifted my version of the process from one of his videos), but apart from that I hoped I was on the right tracks. Now remind me again, subject, composition, timing, light, unicorns…………