Continue reading “Reading Between the Tiles – One Liner”
When an upside down cast iron bath shoots out the front door like a bullet, clearly something is wrong.
Written words never made sense to dad as a child. Letters jumbled off the pages, morphed into shapes and pictures, became visualisations and plans for gadgets. At the age of 12 he built his own bike from bits and pieces, and the urge to fix and construct, rode away with him.Continue reading “Reading Between the Tiles – Cold Feet”
Continue reading “Reading Between the Tiles – The Gift”
A time-lapse portrait of an elderly couple reveals itself through the half-open doorway; each vertical slice shakily, achingly, shuffling to the next.
Continue reading “Why I Write Memoir”
I write because when I tilt my head the words fall out.
Continue reading “Photographing Elderly Parents, the ethics of”
Permission to take and use these photographs was essential from the outset. That required ensuring that my elderly parents understood how my images might be used – publicly on blogs and perhaps in print.
Continue reading “Out of Reach – Unable to Visit Mum”
She’s an explorer, a biologist, a philosopher … and, in the sunshine, a precious jewel with crown of silver filaments; golden wrinkles and ruby kisses.
Continue reading “The Lonely Fly”
Then the silence would be broken …
And the gymnastics and shouting begin
Dad holds up the clean magnifying glass. I’m on the floor photographing at weird angles to try and get a decent shot. What I end up with is a caricature of his nose. Usually this would be culled from my collection – I’m not one for keeping unflattering images of people – but it gives me some idea of the distortions he sees.Continue reading “Blogged Out of 2019”
Continue reading “Staying Upright”
There was no manual. Most of it was self-explanatory, since the basic shell is familiar, but it’s those joints, and figuring out which screw goes in what order, that causes angst.