Every Picture Tells a Story

We have shelves full of them, boxes in the loft; barring a house fire or aircraft crashing onto our roof, a large collection of photograph albums, some inherited, could be passed on into history. Black and white pictures on black pages, sticky pages unpeeling, flip up albums of 6×4 prints. But the days of calling at the chemist to collect a packet of prints, the hoped for best shot out of focus, are a mere memory.

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When we joined a camera club over a decade ago, only half the members had converted to digital, now the colour slide show has been replaced by digital images projected from a computer onto a screen. Charity shops are full of old cameras. The real enthusiast used to be someone who had his own dark room, now he has a computer, sophisticated software packages and a good quality printer. Digital photos can be printed out by anyone, a trip to the supermarket machine, put in your memory device and collect.

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Unlike a roll of film, digital never runs out. Many computers are full of thousands of unseen images, lost to history as technology changes. From pictures taken on mobile phones of news as it happens, to bumble bees captured with the most expensive macro lens; everyone is a photographer now. I prefer compact cameras that point and shoot. But for the ‘technowhiz’ with the right software and a lot of patience, there is nothing that can’t be done to a digital image; cut down to size, lamp posts erased, colours altered, several snaps melded together or the photograph turned into a painting. My book covers are all created with digital designs using original photographs.

Authors are advised to have a website; you can build your own or find a website provider. I found myself with a template; a digital scrapbook waiting to be filled, not just with words, but with pictures. The means to an end became an end in itself.

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Visit my website for seasonal pictures, travel views and a picture quiz.

https://www.ccsidewriter.co.uk/

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Facebook; social interface, time waster, or something more sinister? It does not need to be filled with family photos and intimate details of your life. Artists and photographers just enjoy sharing pictures and many of us relish seeing places we are never likely to visit ourselves.

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I have my camera or my smart phone with me all the time, still recording holidays and family events, but looking out for the unusual and interesting, snapping anything that might be suitable for future blogs or Instagram.

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Ironically, despite this revolution and the explosion of digital colour everywhere we look, people love old black and white photographs; most of us are intrigued if we visit an exhibition. We enjoy the iconic images and the best photographers of that era took beautiful pictures. There is a clarity and sharpness in black and white photographs that has never been present in colour images. The other attraction is that past lives are captured, whether it is a crowded city street or an individual’s gaze, every picture tells a story.

 

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It might seem that in modern life onlookers are all too ready to snap or even film disasters with their smart phones, but keen photographers are often reluctant to take photographs of people going about their normal day, fearful they will be seen as terror suspects or unsavoury characters. It would be a shame if the early Twenty First Century was represented by rural scenes and cityscapes devoid of human beings, I enjoy taking natural shots of people.

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Visit my Beachwriter’s Blog to see my latest pictures of people and places.

https://www.ccsidewriter.co.uk/chapter-five-beach-writer-s-blog/

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Silly Saturday – Strange Species

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Is your computer safe?

 

 

 

 

 

 

DSCN1365Are you safe?

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Or are you having flights of fancy?

 

 

 

 

 

 

DSCN4584Who’s at your window?

P1100878… at your door?

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…or in your garden?

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Trotting by your house?

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In your neighbour’s garden or…

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…dropping by for dinner.

…and if you get the chance, don’t forget to check who has access to your computer.

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Silly Saturday

I have loved taking photographs since I was eight, though I have never been interested in the technical side; merely pointing and shooting my way through black and white, colour slides, Polaroid and back to colour prints until digital changed photography for all of us. Suddenly we could take lots and lots of pictures and I became addicted. When I finally succumbed to a smart phone I was even more obsessed; joining those I had previously sneered at as they gave everyone a pictorial commentary on their meals or child’s tantrums. 29026303_2009414072421706_3591610815813255168_o(1)

Facebook, WhatsApp, Instagram, my Website… all waiting to be filled with pictures. Here are this week’s silly selection. A week of all weathers made it especially fun.28584870_2000526599977120_2006830012_o

The phenomenum of freezing rain created real frosted windows.28641119_2000128503350263_185788723_o28642842_1996678273695286_74645765_oAll Fired Up Cafe provided a winter retreat.

http://potterycafebournemouth.co.uk/

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Then suddenly the snow melted and the sun shone.

Boscombe Pier is full of musical instruments.

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On Friday we had torrential rain and more photo opportunities…

28872393_2010324878997292_623618002859851776_o…on the bus. What luck that the first bus to come along was…

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https://www.bybus.co.uk/features-offers/blog/the-gallery-bus-such-fun

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Back into town to ‘All Fired Up’ to collect my fired camper van; a money box to save my author earnings and a reminder to get on with writing my camper van detective’s novel.

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Every chapter of my website is full of photographs.

https://www.ccsidewriter.co.uk/

You can read two novellas and a short story featuring  Tobias Elliot Channing, the young camper van detective, in Someone Somewhere.

Friday Flash Fiction – Jack’s on a Mission.

Heartbeat

 

‘Don’t let the cold air in Jack.’

‘Sorry, did I wake you?’

‘No, the three alarms woke me.’

‘I didn’t want to be late picking up the other three. I’ll creep out now and let you get back to sleep.’

‘Fat chance of that with you clumping around, anyway you know I’ll be worried till I hear you’ve arrived safely.’

‘No need to worry if you don’t hear, not likely to get reception up there.’

Jo yawned. ‘Is it foggy out there like the weatherman said?’

‘Yup can’t see a thing.’

‘Do be careful out on those winding lanes, thank goodness Phil’s not driving… have you got everything, flask, long johns on, all your gear?’

‘Yes… yes, look I’ve got to go, I want to be right clear of the city before the rush hour.’

 

Phil was waiting by his garden gate for Jack.

‘Hope this fog lifts or we’ll never see it. Did you remember to fill up the petrol this time?’

‘Yeah, ready to go, hope the other two set their alarms.’

 

‘You are now entering the Red Rose County…  at last’ said Phil.

‘Still a way to go yet, keep an eye out for the road signs, I don’t want to miss that turning this time.’

‘Sun’s up and I think that mist is clearing.’

 

Jack felt a thrill as the road climbed and the number of sheep multiplied. Once they were in the car park he jumped out and took in the cold damp air of the moors. After a quick sup from their flasks they started getting the camera gear out; it was time to split up. The four men had planned their positions several days ago, every vantage point had to be covered. Later there would be time to warm up at the inn, get a hot lunch, a few beers and most importantly have a debriefing. Jack strode away from the gritted car park and on to the spongy moor. The sheep took no notice of him, they were used to walkers and sightseers. After ten minutes he was happy with his spot and checked his watch, half an hour to go. He took out a sandwich and the flask and sat on a hillock taking in the silence; nothing but the occasional bleating of a sheep. He had a good team, but he needed to be alone for this part. It was quite a miracle when the sun came out, it didn’t happen often up here. Though the warmth and light was welcome, low in the sky, the sun could cause problems for his shots.

 

It was the same as before, he merely sensed it at first. Still out of sight when he heard it, like a heartbeat, like the blood pulsing in your ears at night. When he was a child he thought it was a train in his head.

Then he saw the white plumes of smoke, switched on the video camera and started clicking away with the camera, following the graceful curve of the rail. The sky was clear as the train crossed the viaduct, he was going to get his best shots ever.

All too soon it was out of sight, Phil would be getting a perfect view from Ribblehead Station platform. The sheep carried on grazing, oblivious to the marvels of Victorian engineering.

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https://www.settle-carlisle.co.uk/heritage/history

Read more flash fiction and longer stories in Someone Somewhere.