View allAll Photos Tagged CONFIDENT
Reading a book that may be a carte de visite photo album.
CDV by Adams' Gallery, Worcester, Massachusetts.
She landed, gobbled a couple of pieces of food herself, then took a pellet to feed to her hissing baby - been doing it for weeks and now even knows where the food tub is in the hallway & helps herself!
I've been wanting to try building some more figures for awhile. It's such a different way of doing things. One of the things I find frustrating about it, and something I had to contend with for this one, is that many of the smaller parts, particularly clips and hinges, only come in a limited selection of colors. So is Philbert here a zombie? A robot? Both? It's totally up to you. All I know is that he makes me giggle, and that's good enough for me.
246/365
I've heard that self consciousness is unattractive.
I've heard that confidence is what makes someone actually beautiful. Confidence, not cockiness.
We'll see.
*
Shelby, my sasha fierce ;) I knew you'd be perfect for this picture, AND YOU WERE, you're beautiful. LOVE YOU ALWAYS. xoxoxo
Last autumn, we felt confident enough to start arranging things in the new year. One of these was a show by Chinese acrobats that Jools wanted to see. She got Jen, Sylv and a friend to go. And yesterday was the day of the show. I made it clear it wasn't for me, but I would go up to rephotograph some City churches and we would meet up afterwards for a meal before coming home.
When we arrange things, we don't know what slings and arrows fate might throw at us. In Tuesday's case, it was a Tube drivers strike, and no last minute talks fixed that. I could arrange my trip to avoind using public transport other than the train up and back home, which were unaffected. Jools thought they would be OK, as their tickets were for the Odeon, which she thought was in Leicester Square, but it turned out was the old Hammersmith Apollo. Now, usually this would not have been a problem, but on Tuesday it was.
They arranged to leave an hour earlier than planned and try to get a taxi, which they did after waiting in line for an hour, getting to the theatre just half an hour before showtime, leaving them only time to get a snack.
Their journey up was done outside rush hour, the show ened at five, and they had to get back to St Pancras. Which would prove to be an adventure.
For me, however, it was a walk in the park. And to add to the pleasure of the day, I would meet up with my good friend, Simon, owner of the Churches of East Anglia website, just about every word and picture done by his own hand. His website also covers the City of LOndon churches, so I asked if he wanted to meet up; he did, so a plan was hatched to meet and visit a few churches, one of which, King Edmund, he had not been inside. He wouldn't arrive until jsut after ten to get the offpeak ticket prices, I would get up early as a couple of the churches would be open before nine.
A plan was made, and I had a list of chuches and a rough order in which to visit them.
The alarm went off at five, and we were both up. I having a coffee after getting dressed and Jools was to drop me off at the station, and as we drove in the heavy fog that had settled, I realised there was a direct train to Cannon Street just after seven, could I make it to avoid a half hour layover at Ashford?
Yes I could.
Jools dropped me off outside Priory station, I went in and got my ticket, and was on the train settled into a forward facing seat with three whole minutes to spare.
The train rattled it's way out of the station and through the tunnel under Western Heights, outside it was still dark. So I put my mask on and rested my eyes as we went through Folkestone to Ashford, an towards Pluckley, Headcorn, Marden to Tonbridge, Sevenoaks and so onto south east London. The train filled up slowly, until we got to Tonbridge which left few seats remaining, and at Sevenoaks, it was standing room only, but by then its a twenty minute run to London Bridge.
After leaving London Bridge station, the train took the sharp turn above Borough Market and over the river into Cannon Street. I was in no hurry, so enoyed the peace and space of an empty carriage before making my way off the train then along the platform and out onto the street in front. A heavy drizzle was falling, so I decided to get some breakfast and another coffee. Just up Walbrook there was an independent sandwich place, so I went in and asked what I wanted: faced with dozens of choices, all made to order, I had no idea.
I decided on a simple sausage sandwich and a coffee and watched people hurrying to work outside. I had all the time I wanted.
I check my phone and find that opening times were a little different, but St Mary Aldermary was open from half eight, so I check the directions and head there.
It was open, mainly because there is a small cafe inside. I ask if I could go in, they say yes, so I snap it well with the 50mm lens fitted, and decide that something sweet was called for. They recommended the carrot cake, so I had a slice of that and a pot of breakfast tea sitting and admiring the details of the church. Once I had finished, I put on the wide angle lens and finished the job.
Just up the lane outside was St Mary-le-Bow, which should also be open.
It was. Also because they had a cafe. I skipped another brew, and photographed that too, and saw that the crypt was open too, so went down the steps to that. Simon tells me that the church got it's name because of the brick arched crypt: bowed roof.
A five minute walk past The Bank of England was St Mary Woolnorth and St Mary Abchurch: both open, and both recorded by my camera and keen eye.
It was now near to ten, so I texted Simon to let him know to meet me at St Edmund, and I set off in the wrong direction. I only realised this when I was the other side of The Bank, so checked my map and retraced my steps and went down Lombard Street.
The rain was still falling gently, and I was damp, so found shelter under a balcony, as the church was not unlocked. The smell of tale piss rose from the pavement, it wasn't pleasant.
Simon arrived, we shook hands and reviewed the plans, and with it being nearly half ten, thought we would give Stephen Walbrook another go. And wonder of wonders, it was open! The church has been reordered, which isn't to everyone's taste, but the doughnut in the centre can be removed if needed, and Wren's church is still there, including the wonderful painted ceiling.
We went to Cornhill, as Somon had never visited St Peer there, or rather never found it open. I had a feeling that Friends of the City Churches were watching it on Tuesday, so should be open. And it was, although a workshop was going on, we went round not getting in anyone's way getting shots, and then chatting with the watcher, who didn't quite match Simon's knowledge, but the watcher had his book for reference.
Another church Simon hadn't been inside was St Katherine Cree, which again was a five minute walk back across the Square Mile.
It too was open.
Yay.
Pride here was the fine rose window, wheel-like for St Catherine.
I was now on the home straight, but after a night for broken sleep, I was flagging. We had an appointment at St James Garlickythe, which was only open an hour. St James was a longer walk, but we made it, getting to the church at ten past, only to find there was a service on at quarter past.
We look inside, and apart from some incense drifting, and the sound of a dog crunching a bone, there was no one inside. I go in and get what shots I could.
The vicar came out and I apologise and leave him to his service with just his dog to witness it. In a city of millions, no one attended.
With that done, we retired to a nearby pub and had an ale, refreshed we went up past St Paul's Cathedral to Ludgate and to St Martin which was also open as expected.
I was getting churched out by now, so only took shots with the 50mm, I had been here before, so wanted detailed shots.
That done, we went to the final church of the day.
-------------------------------------------
There are two churches abutting directly onto the street along the northern side of Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill, and St Martin's proximity to the great west front of St Paul's Cathedral erases any doubt you may have that it was completely destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666. It was rebuilt by Christopher Wren between 1677 and 1686. Looking from Ludgate Circus, Wren's perky spirelet is dwarfed by his great replacement cathedral beyond. The tower, and that of St Augustine Watling Street on the other side of the Cathedral, were deliberately intended as foils to the great dome, their diminutive spires creating the illusion that the dome is larger and more distant.
St Martin's frontage might lead you to expect that this is a 'west' front turned around ninety degrees so that the church faces north, like the other, St Dunstan in the West. In fact, you step into a narrow narthex, and the stairs lead you up into the south side of the nave. At first sight, the interior is rather unexciting - dark and gloomy even - but St Martin suffered less damage from the Blitz than any other City church, and so what you see today is essentially Wren's interior, albeit augmented by the Georgians and Victorians. It would be possible to entertain a romantic notion that the little church had been sheltered by its giant neighbour, but of course Christ Church Newgate Street and St Augustine Watling Street, which were similarly close, were both destroyed, and the interior of St Vedast alias Foster at the east end of the cathedral was gutted in the fire storm.
The font is dated 1673 and inscribed The gift of Thomas Morley Esq. Around the bowl, the Greek palindrome NIYON ANOMHMA MH MONAN OYIN ('cleanse my sin and not my face only'). The grand west gallery dominates one end, with a large candelabra hovering over the furnishings, some of which came from St Mary Magdalen in Fish Lane, demolished in the 19th Century. Once you know that St Martin is a great survivor, you become more sympathetic to the atmosphere of the interior, dusty as it is and creaking with age. Why, this might be the very church of which Betjeman reminisced in Summoned by Bells:
'A single bell would tinkle down a lane:
My echoing steps would track the source of sound -
A cassocked verger, bell-rope in his hands,
called me to high box pews, to cedar wood
(Like incense where no incense ever burned),
To ticking gallery clock, and charity bench,
And free seats for the poor, and altar-piece -
Gilded Commandment boards - and sword-rests made
For long-discarded aldermanic pomp.
A hidden organist sent reedy notes
To flute around the plasterwork. I stood,
And from the sea of pews a single head
With cherries nodding on a black straw hat
Rose in a neighbouring pew. The caretaker?
Or the sole resident parishioner?
And so once more, as for three hundred years,
This carven wood, these grey memorial'd walls
Heard once again the Book of Common Prayer,
While somewhere at the back the verger, now
Turned Parish Clerk, would rumble out "Amen".'
Simon Knott, March 2022
I loved when Kim was in the mood to shoot. She would contact me with an idea, we made time and did it. For this shoot Kim said she wanted to shoot in the Boise River before the weather turned cold. She showed up wearing some long extensions and looked gorgeous. With Kim, you rarely gave direction; she knew what she wanted. You just have the camera ready. What a fun shoot. We did this shoot in early September 2021 in Star, Idaho.
Last autumn, we felt confident enough to start arranging things in the new year. One of these was a show by Chinese acrobats that Jools wanted to see. She got Jen, Sylv and a friend to go. And yesterday was the day of the show. I made it clear it wasn't for me, but I would go up to rephotograph some City churches and we would meet up afterwards for a meal before coming home.
When we arrange things, we don't know what slings and arrows fate might throw at us. In Tuesday's case, it was a Tube drivers strike, and no last minute talks fixed that. I could arrange my trip to avoid using public transport other than the train up and back home, which were unaffected. Jools thought they would be OK, as their tickets were for the Odeon, which she thought was in Leicester Square, but it turned out was the old Hammersmith Apollo. Now, usually this would not have been a problem, but on Tuesday it was.
They arranged to leave an hour earlier than planned and try to get a taxi, which they did after waiting in line for an hour, getting to the theatre just half an hour before showtime, leaving them only time to get a snack.
Their journey up was done outside rush hour, the show ended at five, and they had to get back to St Pancras. Which would prove to be an adventure.
For me, however, it was a walk in the park. And to add to the pleasure of the day, I would meet up with my good friend, Simon, owner of the Churches of East Anglia website, just about every word and picture done by his own hand. His website also covers the City of LOndon churches, so I asked if he wanted to meet up; he did, so a plan was hatched to meet and visit a few churches, one of which, King Edmund, he had not been inside. He wouldn't arrive until just after ten to get the offpeak ticket prices, I would get up early as a couple of the churches would be open before nine.
A plan was made, and I had a list of churches and a rough order in which to visit them.
The alarm went off at five, and we were both up. I having a coffee after getting dressed and Jools was to drop me off at the station, and as we drove in the heavy fog that had settled, I realised there was a direct train to Cannon Street just after seven, could I make it to avoid a half hour layover at Ashford?
Yes I could.
Jools dropped me off outside Priory station, I went in and got my ticket, and was on the train settled into a forward facing seat with three whole minutes to spare.
The train rattled it's way out of the station and through the tunnel under Western Heights, outside it was still dark. So I put my mask on and rested my eyes as we went through Folkestone to Ashford, an towards Pluckley, Headcorn, Marden to Tonbridge, Sevenoaks and so onto south east London. The train filled up slowly, until we got to Tonbridge which left few seats remaining, and at Sevenoaks, it was standing room only, but by then its a twenty minute run to London Bridge.
After leaving London Bridge station, the train took the sharp turn above Borough Market and over the river into Cannon Street. I was in no hurry, so enjoyed the peace and space of an empty carriage before making my way off the train then along the platform and out onto the street in front. A heavy drizzle was falling, so I decided to get some breakfast and another coffee. Just up Walbrook there was an independent sandwich place, so I went in and asked what I wanted: faced with dozens of choices, all made to order, I had no idea.
I decided on a simple sausage sandwich and a coffee and watched people hurrying to work outside. I had all the time I wanted.
I check my phone and find that opening times were a little different, but St Mary Aldermary was open from half eight, so I check the directions and head there.
It was open, mainly because there is a small cafe inside. I ask if I could go in, they say yes, so I snap it well with the 50mm lens fitted, and decide that something sweet was called for. They recommended the carrot cake, so I had a slice of that and a pot of breakfast tea sitting and admiring the details of the church. Once I had finished, I put on the wide angle lens and finished the job.
Just up the lane outside was St Mary-le-Bow, which should also be open.
It was. Also because they had a cafe. I skipped another brew, and photographed that too, and saw that the crypt was open too, so went down the steps to that. Simon tells me that the church got it's name because of the brick arched crypt: bowed roof.
A five minute walk past The Bank of England was St Mary Woolnorth and St Mary Abchurch: both open, and both recorded by my camera and keen eye.
It was now near to ten, so I texted Simon to let him know to meet me at St Edmund, and I set off in the wrong direction. I only realised this when I was the other side of The Bank, so checked my map and retraced my steps and went down Lombard Street.
The rain was still falling gently, and I was damp, so found shelter under a balcony, as the church was not unlocked. The smell of tale piss rose from the pavement, it wasn't pleasant.
Simon arrived, we shook hands and reviewed the plans, and with it being nearly half ten, thought we would give Stephen Walbrook another go. And wonder of wonders, it was open! The church has been reordered, which isn't to everyone's taste, but the doughnut in the centre can be removed if needed, and Wren's church is still there, including the wonderful painted ceiling.
We went to Cornhill, as Simon had never visited St Peter there, or rather never found it open. I had a feeling that Friends of the City Churches were watching it on Tuesday, so should be open. And it was, although a workshop was going on, we went round not getting in anyone's way getting shots, and then chatting with the watcher, who didn't quite match Simon's knowledge, but the watcher had his book for reference.
Another church Simon hadn't been inside was St Katherine Cree, which again was a five minute walk back across the Square Mile.
It too was open.
Yay.
Pride here was the fine rose window, wheel-like for St Catherine.
I was now on the home straight, but after a night for broken sleep, I was flagging. We had an appointment at St James Garlickythe, which was only open an hour. St James was a longer walk, but we made it, getting to the church at ten past, only to find there was a service on at quarter past.
We look inside, and apart from some incense drifting, and the sound of a dog crunching a bone, there was no one inside. I go in and get what shots I could.
The vicar came out and I apologise and leave him to his service with just his dog to witness it. In a city of millions, no one attended.
With that done, we retired to a nearby pub and had an ale, refreshed we went up past St Paul's Cathedral to Ludgate and to St Martin which was also open as expected.
I was getting churched out by now, so only took shots with the 50mm, I had been here before, so wanted detailed shots.
That done, we went to the final church of the day.
St Bride.
The tiered wedding cake is so done in deference to Wren's spire on St Bride, although hard to see it from the restricted churchyard. Inside it is very impressive, sad to report this was another rebuilt after the war, but they spared no effort here.
And that was that.
Simon had to catch a train by half four. I was pooped, so my plan was to walk to City Thameslink station, catch a train north to St Pancras and then a train home.
I walked with Simon a while, before we split, me going to the station and he into Holy Sepulchre where tales of radical reordering can gladly be discounted.
---------------------------------------------
It's forty years since I first set foot in St Bride's. A schoolfriend and I were exploring London, taking cheap day returns down from Cambridge to wander backstreets and stumble upon wonders. He'd found St Bride's a week or so before, and hauled me off of Fleet Street into it. First, the polished, varnished interior, still relatively new then, and then the surprise of the crypt with its history of London, particularly of the Great Fire and the Blitz. I thought it was wonderful, and still do.
But in those days Fleet Street was a hive of newspaper activity, with a sense that this really was the beating heart of the nation's intellectual life. Now, the newspapers have gone, and Fleet Street is nothing but a dull shopping thoroughfare linking Westminster with St Paul's Cathedral. But St Bride's survives, and thrives.
The medieval church was destroyed in the Great Fire, and the new church by Sir Christopher Wren is architecturally perhaps the best of all his churches, the spire his most famous, as well as being the tallest, a tiered wedding cake punctuating the space between St Paul's and the Inns of Court. The church is shoehorned into a gap behind the shops and offices of Fleet Street and New Bridge Street, and can be approached along a number of passageways, some of which come up to it from below.
St Bride was completely gutted in the firestorm on the night of 29th December 1940. Only the tower and parts of the outside walls survived. The rebuilding took nearly three years under the hand of Geoffrey Allen, reopening in 1957. Although much of the refurnishing is Wren-like in style, Allen took the decision not to rebuild the galleries. The replacement stalls face inwards in the style of a college chapel. At the east end is a rather alarming reredos, undoubtedly made in the language of Wren but so quirky that it is hard to say what it is actually trying to do. The stalls and sanctuary are enclosed in wooden screening, creating a large open area at the west end. The acoustics are very good.
You can go down into the crypt which was excavated after the Blitz, and still plays host to the exhibition, as well as two little chapels, one remembering the War dead of Fleet Street. It is all fascinating and moving, and for a moment you get a sense of the intimate life of central London before International Finance and Information Technology changed it forever.
Simon Knott, December 2015
I was asked for a corporate shoot. it's the first time a colleague asked for a shoot (instead of photographing my kids). It was good to practice my skills. and we had very nice weather!
Led by new professional Andile Mogakane (extreme right, bowling), Stokesley appeal - unsuccessfully - for leg before at Broughton Road. Captured, on the opening day of the 2022 club cricket season, during a North Yorkshire & South Durham Premier Cricket League Premier Division fixture against Richmondshire.
Defending champions Richmondshire went down by four wickets as Stokesley chalked up a surprise but deserved victory.
Match statistics
Stokesley versus Richmondshire
North Yorkshire & South Durham Premier League, Premier Division (50 overs, 12.30pm start)
Admission: free. Programme: none. Attendance: 95 (h/c). Stokesley won the toss and elected to field. Richmondshire 194-7 off 50 overs (Tom Dowson 56, Gary Pratt 41 not out, Harry Harding 2-26, Fez Hussain 2-40, Fin Morris 2-46) 7pts lost by four wickets to Stokesley 195-6 off 46 overs (Andrew Weighell 68, Andile Mogakane 59, Josh Dowson 2-17, Shafiqullah Ghafari 2-39) 20pts. Umpires: Barbir Noor and David Oliver.
“Don't wait until everything is just right. It will never be perfect. There will always be challenges, obstacles and less than perfect conditions. So what. Get started now. With each step you take, you will grow stronger and stronger, more and more skilled, more and more self-confident and more and more successful.” - Mark Victor Hansen
Last day of the week, and if I am honest, beginning to feel a little bit better after suffering more than I'd like to admit since knacking my back before going to Svalbard.
This was the first time I have felt sure on my feet since then, happy and confident as my brain ordered them plates to climb a down, and they obeyed and I didn't feel like I was going to come tumbling back down.
But before all that, there was work. And putting out the bins.
Jools went to yoga, so was on bin duty. Made a second coffee and made ready for work.
My colleagues are travelling this weekend, both going to Taiwan, meanwhile I will have an online audit on Tuesday. My audits are loaded to the second half of the year, so for now I try to make sense of our planning "tool", and try to make sense of the chaos.
Its different chaos from the usual general chaos.
I have chosen to pick a fight with someone two corporate levels above me, mainly because I am right and they're not. And because, what the fuck?
Anyway, the morning was spent swapping messages as they were too busy for a call. And is going on holiday at the end of the day.
So I throw a few grenades over the wall before signing off, and smiled to myself.
Jools returned at half one, changes and we go out. It was a glorious afternoon, she was going to go swimming in the harbour, and I was going to meet Graham and look for orchids.
An orchid.
Jools said not to hurry back, so I wouldn't. Within reason.
Drove to Wye where I was to meet Graham, before I got in his car and we drove to another down.
Last week two people posted shots of a rare "yellow" form of a Late Spider, and after some detective work, I decided it was at the site we were about to explore. I had not been here before, and Graham had found it only a few weeks back, where he saw maybe 15 spikes.
We had to limbo under a fence, go along a track then up the down, where we saw the first Late Spiders.
In huge numbers.
And monster spikes too, one with 10 (ten) flowers, and many with unusual lip markings, colouration and one with a yellow spike.
And the spikes kept showing all up to the top of the down, but the orchid we came to find, we did not see.
Two hours passed, and I had to go to pick up Jools, so we walked back down to Graham's car, so he could run me to ours, then back along lanes to Stone Street and the short run to the motorway and to home.
Jools had met an old friend and they had talked for over an hour, so no worries on keeping her waiting.
We went back home, getting back at quarter past five, so time to feed the cats, and get ready for the quiz. Meanwhile, Jools went to collect a Chinese takeaway, so that when the quiz was done, I would be collected and we would go to Jen's for dinner and cards.
Sylv is still here, and running interference. She means well, but chaos follows here. Everywhere.
We eat well, then after packing away, we play cards, taking two hours to get through a game of Meld, as Sylv is poorly organised she seems just to stare at her cards. Jools helps here twice, and she wins the hands as a result.
But no John, it was too late for a hand of Queenie. So we went home.