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I fought with an unexpected health problem for three days. Finally, I got some relief tonight. Who knew my life wasn't that bad with my back problem before? Always cherish the present. Peace.
Fujifilm X-Pro1
Voigtlander 40mm f/1.4
VSCO film grain
A BNSF SD70ACe, 3 ES44C4's, NS SD90MAC, and a NS C44-9W lead 31K west after the 5th unit in consist developed brake problems.
The roller coaster at the seaside near me was carrying out maintenance on its roller coaster. The entire amusement park is surrounded by a tall wall topped with barbed wire. It always looks incongruous to me... I always see it as an amusement prison. This is, of course, one of the roller coaster cars and the grey strip is the roller coaster track...although it looks rather like a pole!
When the storms arrive and "For The Problems" they can cause who could be to concerned when they bring such pleasure to hikers, cross country skiers and photographers. The beauty of fresh snow doesn't last to long so make the best of and keeping shooting and sharing.
Got a Corona problem? Make a Corona idol! It's a traditional method. What could possibly go wrong? That picture was made on a roll of long expired Agfa Vista 400 (the real thing, not the now discontinued Fujifilm rebranding) that had 07/03 written on it, and 20 views (not 24) on it. I've gone though a few expired films, this one is definitely on the more psyhedelic end of the spectrum. The palm still goes tho a roll of Konica VX 400 - see bellow.
Pentax ME and SMC Pentax 50mm f/1.7, expired Agfa Vista 400 (exposed as ISO 125) developed with the Rollei C41 kit and digitalized using kit zoom and extension tubes.
Thank you everyone for your visits, faves and comments, they are always appreciated :)
Hi Everyone,
Just a quick note to let everyone know what it happening!! My wife was admitted to the hospital on Tuesday and will just say that the issues have not resolved!! Please no emails at this time because I don't have time to address them!! We only have questions at this time and no answers so it will do no good to speculate!! I ask that for those of you who pray that we would appreciate it if you kept her in your prayers!! I will try to get back here as soon as possible and fill everyone in but it has been a 20 hour day today! Peace and blessings to everyone!!
Thanks to all. Jerome
DSL_1115uls
HI ALL, To my AMAZEMENT!! I was able to get on the internet right now!! No clue why I haven’t been able to for more then a month. No clue how long I can stay on or if I will be able to get back on anytime soon.
My health is oretty lousy with allergies on top and pretty bad to. No covid I have been tested more then once. The guy in the next apartment seems likely to have covid, but refuses to be tested or mask up or isolate and the building doesn’t seem to be able to do anything. Guy next door says it isn’t his problem if anyone gets it they were ment to get it.
Anyway I have been stuck in my apartment due to health so I haven’t encountered him much so that is a good thing.
How are you all doing?? I hope well!! Enjoying life?? Doing anything fun this summer??
I better send this while I hopefully can.
Please take care and prayers for you all.
I hope you are all well. :)
Charles.
I do force this old body out for walks when i can and of course I need food so to get grocerys a very painful difficult thing to do. Ordering them to be dilivered is not affordable for me and not have internet accesse makes that not possible even if i could. But getting out some is good and thus these two pictures.
Hugs all. No clue when I'll be on again.
Charles.
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Abused, Abandoned Jungle Dogs.
Nikon D300 DX Camera.
Nikkor 17-55 2.8 Lens.
September 30th 2014.
Back Story ................
Up by 5:15 AM and off to the morning market to get "5" kilos of chopped chicken.
Seems lately "4" kilos just isn't filling the bill.
Ran home and started right in cooking the chicken and preparing all the usual stuff.
Try as I might the clock was winning the race. My body wanted to go 100 miles per hour but in reality 10 miles per hour was the best I could do .
Left the starting gate handy capped by a good two hours. It is what it is ..;-)
No problem with The Browns as all 3 of them were waiting patiently by the old iron gate leading into The Dog Palace.
Once we had finished with their unbridled exuberance breakfast was served.
During this time all pills and medicine in the form of antibiotic compound mix was administered to their monkey wounds.
Mamas wound is rated a strong 7+.
Mr B's wound is rated a strong 6.
And Betty's wound is a strong 7+
Thanks to your ongoing support these
Dogs have made it through an agonizing,
painful, death defying situation.
Big Thank You from the jungles of Thailand..;-)
On the way out the skies were filling up with dark menacing rain clouds suggesting the presence of a very nasty storm coming in !
After spending an hour at The Dog Palace with The Browns it was time to cut it short and head for home.
Had only been on the road 15 minutes when large rain drops started hitting me hard, and soon they were larger and hitting harder !
Not far up ahead it was nothing less then a dark gray wall of water coming down !
Quickly pulled under a large palm tree and got sorted out with the poncho covering me and a plastic garbage bag covering the camera, which was hanging over my shoulder in a cotton bag.
Took off once again but the trucks and cars never even slowed down all the time spraying water over me.
By now the rain made seeing 10 feet in front near impossible as the vehicles continued to fly past on a road now completely covered in water building up by the second !.
Those guys are brain dead driving like that in these adverse conditions, and if I continue any further I too will be brain dead.
Started down shifting the little Honda 125 knowing that if I hit the breaks the scooter may not do what I want it to do.
Got myself a couple meters off the side of the road but still the wake from the splashing cars hit me. With the rain now horizontal and vertical seeing was next to zero ! Lightning was striking close by as thunder shook my very soul.
I desperately need to get under something and need to do it fast ..
Maybe 5 meters ahead I think I see an old phone booth, sure enough as I approach there stood, at an angle an old abandoned phone booth. Along side of it was maybe 5 cement blocks.
Kicked the blocks apart to see it there was any bad critters, grabbed 3 of them and made a cement chair in the phone booth. Ahhh, at last "Shelter from the storm"
So here I am sitting on my new cement chair made from blocks in an old phone booth watching the world fly by.
Well looked more like a blur flying by as lightning is striking every few seconds and thunder is shaking my new found shelter.
I'm wet under the poncho but makes no difference as long as I'm off the road and away from those lunatic drivers.
One thing that was kinda cool is the angle the phone booth tilted made for a backrest, down side was my feet were in 6 inches of moving water. What's that mean ? .. Keep an eye out for snakes !!!
In short order there was the horrific sound of metal hitting metal, you know the sound cars make when they make contact at high speed. Not only once but repeatedly. This sound added to the lightning, thunder and down pour of rain got me to thinking....
Closed my eyes and said
"Buddha, I'm sure glad I don't live in Syria !".
A long 30 minutes went by and still no let up... My wet butt is getting real tired of sitting on these hard cement blocks.
Another long 30 minutes went by and the lightning started to slow down but the rain continued at the same rate.
Stepped out to have a look see, not far from my location the stop lights weren't working. Vehicles had slowed due to the depth of the water covering the road, like axle deep !
Cars and trucks were spread out all over the place, looked like "pick up sticks".
Panicked people everywhere but not a single motorbike in any direction.
Rain coming down hard but nothing like the last hour.
Called no# 1 wife, she was relieved to hear from me as she had called with no answer. Told no# 1 it was so loud there was no way I could ever here the phone ring. Plus it was wrapped up in the cotton bag that was wrapped up in the plastic bag ....;-0~~
Alright enough, time to make a move, so I did.
Slowly worked my way down the high side of the road which meant circumventing a number of staled out vehicles. Rain is relentless but no matter now I'm on a mission to get home.
And some time later I did arrive, soaking wet and met by a bunch of soaking wet dogs. Mr WeeNee, Boney Boy and of course The Worm. They all had their own storm story that they insisted on sharing with me .At this point I just laid down on the ground and let them tell me in their own way...Lots of licking and leaping ...;-)
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Jon&Crew, soaking wet but still here ...;-)
ooooops ,
Forgot to mention the photo
is Baby Ding Bat .........;-)~~~
Thank you for your comments and donations.
Thank You.
Jon&Crew.
Please help with your temple dog donations here.
www.gofundme.com/f/help-for-abandoned-thai-temple-dogs
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SMA 18 is seen loading at Sidcup Police Station on 6th August 1975. Despite problems with punctuality, patronage held up well on route 725, and additional peak period journeys were introduced over certain sectors such as Croydon – Dartford. Whilst the “traditional” radial Green Line routes struggled into oblivion, route 725’s range of orbital links remained highly popular.
In the mid-1970s, London Country’s parent National Bus Company imposed standard liveries upon its constituents, who had to choose between poppy red or leaf green. London Country chose the green option, which could be modified to include an “express” white component. The SMA class was thus repainted, and SMA 18 had already lost its London Country logo (irreverently called “flying polo”, “gun carriage”, etc. etc.) in preparation. It saddens me to admit that following the demise of the Green Line livery, my interest in the shrinking network waned.
However, route 725 bucked the trend of decline. Companion route 726 was introduced in 1977 operating via Heathrow Airport, and route 725 was diverted to serve Bexleyheath a year later. 1978 also saw the demise of the SMA class. New timetables at last took account of average prevailing traffic conditions. Subsequent years are well documented elsewhere, suffice to say that dogmatism attempted to abolish these successful orbital express routes, and at the time of writing, all that remains is a route X26 confined to the Croydon – Heathrow leg. This despite the incoming London Mayor’s declaration in 2008 to revive orbital express services, an intention proving fruitless, with no comment on the subject forthcoming from any of the Mayoral contenders in 2016!
However, I dislike discussing politics, so perhaps I could return to the 1975 picture and point out a remnant of London Transport practice instituted from its inception 42 years earlier: finials adorning the tops of bus stop posts. Stops at which buses (central and country area) called were equipped with the red “apple core” variety, while stops at which Green Line coaches called were topped with the green “pineapple” type. This stop at Sidcup Police Station was served by both buses and coaches, so was equipped with both types of finial. Opinions vary regarding their significance, however, in my mind, they are regarded as Art Décor embellishments so typical of the 1930s, embraced by the fledgling style-conscious LT.
A collection of shots from the Old Road between Masboroough Junction and Beighton Junction in an hour this afternoon picking up diverted WCML freights and other engineering trains. I was slightly frustrated arriving nearly two hours later than I had planned which would have coincided with the Coatbridge to Daventry liner and a southbound engineers. The eventual outcome is the Coatbridge was running two hours late coinciding with another southbound engineers.
A disappointing load for GBRF and not too much of a problem for 66309 the 4S57 11:56 Hams Hall GBRF to Mossend Euro terminal heads past the Treeton Loop.
To our Transatlantic Cousins - I can't claim this is my own - it cropped up on a web thread discussing the ridiculous toilet debate going on in the States right now
“It appears we may have a problem. Mrs Bates (names have been changed to protect the evil - my landlady) let the roofer in this morning to locate and fix the damp problem. She stopped on the first level; the kitchen and reception floor and did not go up any further.”
As I read this email from the estate agent I was thinking he was about to tell me that she had had a heart attack on the stairs and died, and that there may be a slight delay in fixing the damp problem.
No. It was bad news.
She had decided that I was running some kind of junk shop out of the rented flat. She had looked around at my belongings, deduced that I couldn’t possibly be leaving them in the state they were in (I like peeling paint and battered things) and hence must be painting and selling them. So in one fell swoop she managed to accuse me of running a business out of the flat AND insulted my personal taste.
“Oh she is just a sweet old lady who wants to rent the flat out above her to some nice people.” The agent said when we first viewed the property.
Being in a rare optimistic mood I imagined a lovely, miniature boned, twinkly-eyed old dear, who I would chat to about the olden days. I would listen to her describe scone recipes in a lovely soft voice with delicate hand gestures and be transfixed. I would help her in the garden and she would thrust upon me baskets of juicy figs from her tree and bake me pies which she would leave on the doorstep with beautiful little handwritten notes. At Christmas she would invite me in and we would have a sherry while her cat sat on my lap. I would present her with one of those heated bootee things advertised in the back of the Mail on Sunday and she would weep tears of joy and tell me that it was the best present she had ever had. After six months of happy neighbourliness she would pass away in her sleep, but without making any unpleasant smells, leaving me the entire house in her will, and, as it would fortuitously turn out, a chateau in France filled with priceless art.
It didn’t pan out quite like that.
Mrs Bates insisted on meeting us before approving our tenancy.
“I will just go and get Mrs Bates.” The agent said, and then I saw him back out of the property like a wildebeest sheepishly backing away from the river where a crocodile has just grabbed the head of the beest next to him.
A white head loomed at the bottom of the stairs, a great, lank Dougal mop, framing a very disagreeable face, a face that must have spent many, many years disapproving of things. So much for the soft, tingly voice - a deep, moneyed, mannish tone erupted and pink-rimmed piggy eyes took us in.
She was tall and broad for a ‘little old lady’, taller if not for the resentful stoop. She looked like she went to boarding school, was a tree-trunk-legged head girl, captain of the lacrosse team and bullied the headmaster. There were no delicate little sparrow ankles sticking out of a tweedy skirt, no this bird wore slacks.
We made all the usual pleasantries to a person who we wanted something from, “Oh what a beautiful flat. You have such wonderful taste. Do tell me more about this wonderful painting you have on the wall, terribly lovely to meet you, I do hope we will be seeing you again simper, simper.”
We were delighted when she approved us as tenants.
When we had viewed the flat we were aware that ‘some’ furniture came with it, but what we didn’t expect was for her to, before we moved in, but after we had signed the contract, stow a load of old tat and crap that she clearly didn’t want in her flat but couldn’t be bothered to chuck away. Every single cupboard in the diminutive kitchen had been stacked with oleaginous kitchenalia. Before we could unpack our own claggy pots and pans we had to pack up all of hers.
It took a month to get her to take away nine boxes full of her stuff. She had her ‘minion’ do this - some middle aged (and equally peculiar) man with loose family connections - but certainly working on tightening those up in time for the reading of her will. He had, prior to this, been painting the windows on the outside of the house. He managed to string that out for nearly two months – every day he was outside on the scaffolding, sanding or painting something imperceptible and he was nearly always outside the bathroom window. In the end I had to cover it up with newspaper and felt like a squatter every time I squatted.
The minion would perform trifling chores badly for Mrs Bates and then proceed to spend the rest of the day downstairs in her darkened flat with her. Goodness knows what his wife and children thought. “Look kids, if you want to live in that big house in Richmond one day then Daddy has to go and spend time with that old lady who was related to my Aunt’s, great-grandfather’s, cousin’s brother’s gardener. I will take you to Thorpe Park when she dies.”
I would hear her baritone voice coming up through the floorboards and his over-keen responses and enthusiasm to every cough and complaint she made. He seemed to leave later and later; What could he possibly be doing in there at 9:30pm on a Friday? I must admit some rather unpleasant sexual scenarios started to enter my mind – I had images of her exploiting her position of power, blackmailing him to do things to parts of her that really ought to be kept hidden underneath three layers of thermals and a girdle.
So that fateful morning, while I was at work, accompanied by ‘minion’ – yes he was also the ‘roofer’ - She came in and took umbrage with my lifestyle choices and decided that I was Steptoe and Son.
After the first unannounced visit I became completely paranoid about her repeating it – old ladies always use the, ‘Oh, I’m old, I forgot to tell you that I was coming in.’ excuse.
I found myself Googling the James Bond ‘hair across the doorway’ trick to catch her out if she had sneaked into the house, I further doubled up with a carefully placed trainer behind the door whose position I memorized exactly. Should the old bag tramp her way in, I would know about it, her gnarled branch wrists would never be able to replace the shoe as I had done, not without a nasty fracture.
Suddenly threatened with eviction thanks to Mrs Bates' paranoid dementia, all pleasantries ended abruptly. Where the previous week I had endured her droning on about her car and her ailments to me while I made sympathetic sounds and concerned frowns, even offering to give her a lift when she needed one - after ‘Roofergate’ she would now be receiving only the wrath of Lucy – i.e. total blanking - a powerful force indeed.
In addition, I went straight for the jugular – old ladies are totally obsessed with parking. There are three spaces outside the house and about eight neighbours vying for them. Somehow Mrs Bates’ car is always one of the three cars parked there. It’s as though she is in the Mafia; without fail, if she goes out in her car, when she comes back she will still have a space, and because this is how it seemed to be I, at first, felt uncomfortable parking there. How does that song go?. . . .
‘What a difference an accusation of running a business out of your flat makes. . . 24 little hours.’
Mrs B was out in her car. It was Friday afternoon. There was a space outside the flat, so I, with great satisfaction, took it. I made sure I stayed there all weekend, and I’m not ashamed to say I delighted in seeing her car parked all skew whiff up the road and hugely enjoyed imagining her walking painfully slowly down the road muttering to herself, clanking her stick on everyone else’s cars. On Monday morning I toyed with not going to work, just to prolong my victory.
In the meantime, her accusations were proven unfounded when the agent, after an inspection of the flat was able to confirm that no, I did not have a rag and bone cart hidden in the airing cupboard.
The next week, Mrs Bates opened my bank statement ‘in error’ - Looking for evidence of my home run multi-million pound business perhaps.
In continued retaliation I make sure to go to and from my car a lot, loading it with large peculiar items and then unloading different large, peculiar items just to give her something to worry about. I am also inviting random strangers – the stranger they look and smell the better - to come into the house, shout a bit and then leave, handing me a fat brown envelope as they go out of the front door whilst loudly saying “And don’t forget the bucket of pig’s blood next time.”
My boyfriend and I have taken to hiding round corners if we see her coming out of the house when we are coming home. She can often be seen striding Gandalf-like with her crook up the middle of the street, “Thou shalt not park!” Why do the old and infirm insist on walking in the middle of the road?
I have never moved so silently as the day she was in the front garden poking at a weed in her pinny, sunhat, gardening gloves, gardening shoes and gardening smock. She stooped, mop flanges forming blinkers, and I took the steps behind her up to the front door three at a time with the stealth of a stoat. The only giveaway was her neurotic cat freaking out at the sight of me, but it was too late, by the time she would have straightened up the front door had been triumphantly slammed. And why is it that unpleasant people seem to have complimentary pets? Her cat is one of those overweight, overly nervous, completely unfriendly staring-furred creatures that seems to live a totally miserable, anxious existence. The demeanour of the owner seems to, by osmosis, be passed onto the pet. When I look at her cat I see Mrs Bate’s face, thing is the view I normally get is of the cat’s bum as it flees in terror – it must be something to do with the puckered mouth.
I used to like little old ladies, or at least I had no instant opinion of them either way. Now my perception of them has been entirely squewed. If I see one in the street I now shudder. All I see behind those watery eyes are scheming, manipulative little minxes grassing on people who they think are not using energy saving bulbs, have put a plastic bag in their paper recycling bin or who have claimed to have used five of their own bags at the self checkout when really they have used none. When I see them driving I think of them engineering rear-enders so that they can claim damages for the crash causing varicose veins and a pelvic prolapse.
What one forgets when one thinks of old ladies is that the natural inclination for women to be bitchy and suspicious does not fade with age. We may assume that once they have white hair and are all doddery and have a slightly endearing quality, like a limping mangle-footed pigeon, that little old ladies have let go of all their bitterness and instead embraced the church of Mr Kipling, oh no, it’s all still in there. If anything it has grown.
We watch our own mothers and grandmothers over time get older and become increasingly more paranoid, anxious and full of fret. With your own kin though the paranoia and complaints tend not to be focused on you and rather on the building and plumbing fraternity, or Bargain Hunt. Most old ladies that you know tend to be related to you and therefore you are treated as a trusted confidante for all of their bizarre thought processes. Imagine however an unrelated 80 year old head filled with a lifetime of strange eccentricities, unfounded fears, grudges, and opinions living underneath you, working herself up into a frenzy about all of the possible wrongdoings going on up there, watching your comings and goings and making up her own storyline about your wicked life, in between reading crime novels and eating fondant fancies.
I have decided therefore to give her plenty of other things to make assumptions about on her next visit. At all times there will be misconstrue-able items left in ascending order of offensiveness on the stairs in the hope that she will go no further than the lubricated baseball bat.
St Mary street
My facebook page: www.facebook.com/MaciejDakowiczPhotography
"Cardiff After Dark" book: on Amazon UK, on amazon .com, worldwide on bookdepository.
No es un problema para mi...Es un problema para ti
algÚN problem? O no problem?
Parque de los estudiantes
cali
c-c
Having problems uploading my photos to Flickr this morning! A few days ago, I posted a photo of this gorgeous Globe Artichoke, in landscape format. I found it so hard to decide what shape to post it in, as cropping to a square would have meant cutting off a lot of the glorious bokeh background. So, today, I'm posting another shot taken the same day, but making it square, for a closer look. Also took a number of photos with the grass behind it, creating a plain green background. However, a plain background really looks very boring compared to this colourful richness.