Well, sort of. I’ve bought the domain I was using, wjgs.net, again. And I’m using that from now on, so please do follow and like there! I’ve recently made the site less garish, with electric blue being the main bright colour. In the future, all posts -hopefully covering language and poetry, bird photography and football and an assortment of interests bordering on frippery will be posted on wjgs.net.
Writer’s Block (and Birds)
You may be aware that I recently went to Norfolk on a poetic whim (although probably only if you actually know me). As yet the poem that I wanted to write about Brancaster, a seaside village my family would holiday in, has not materialised. However, I did get quite into taking photographs. So I’ve semi-decided to have a crack at taking photos of birds as a hobby.
A screech of seagulls
Five Phone Photos
The Prince Regent shared it about it would seem…
Perusing my hard drive I realised I did occasionally use my phone camera. Here are some pictures I took around Brighton and Hove a few years ago.
A Few Photographs
In a previous post I lamented just how long it took before I owned a dedicated digital camera (i.e. not one on a phone. I bought one in early March 2014).
Shortly after said purchase I quickly discovered just how difficult it was to photograph birds (they tend to fly away) and how relatively easy it was to capture sunsets, sunrises and other nature-based pretties. Sadly the ratio of photographs with which I have returned to Sussex reflects that. I have no intention of inflicting those who have chanced upon this site with numerous pretty images of beaches and rural England. Here are a few images that include animals or are not landscape photographs of a common nature.
Mr Jackdaw realises he could have brought his dog.
One of my first photographs, Mr Jackdaw was very much beginner’s luck as far as birds were concerned.
Poetry-triggered, nostalgia-fueled Whim
On Thursday 27th February I attended a poetry night at the Red Rooster café in St. James Street, Brighton. A friend of a friend, Paul Crompton read a poem called Docking which, it transpired, was a village quite near to Brancaster -a place my family used to go on holiday. Indeed my maternal grandfather has a memorial bench on the golf course behind the sand dunes. I decided to respond to Paul’s Docking poem, writing about nearby Brancaster.
Fortunately my finances were less dire as a result of about six months of tee-totalism. Unfortunately as a result of my attendant sobriety I was unable to goad someone into making a bet of honour that would result in me having to catch local buses to the North Norfolk coast. Tony Hawks has written several books by initiating a bizarre bet of this kind.
So I decided to make judicious use of my free bus pass to get to Norfolk just because. By the time I got as far as Essex, I had decided I also wanted to snorkel around the SS Vina:
SS Vina at low tide, Brancaster Beach
as I had wanted to as a child but had never done so.
Over the coming intervals of time I will be putting up more notable pictures and happenings on my way there, and actually writing the response poem that justified the trip…
(I’ve already put up some of the more exciting photographs and a couple of videos with radio-controlled boats; this last post works in flaws in English and the joy of football).
A non-gendered third-person singular… and a lifeboat
I was about ten years old when someone made a video of myself (and others) that I actually enjoyed watching -someone kindly recorded a football (soccer) match between Hine FC, who I played for, and Stow Falcons FC. As I recall, we won 5-1 and I actually scored a goal. Not a particularly good goal: one-on-one with the goalkeeper I hit the post and tapped in the rebound. I was nonetheless very pleased and I watched the video a lot until it was used to record a television program that was probably never watched.
Volunteer Spirit in Sheringham
How big is Middleton?
Middleton Indian with bow and plunger
I recently trekked from Blaxhall YHA to Walberswick. To my surprise, Middleton, a small place in rural Suffolk, is surprisingly easy to get lost in. Thankfully I came across these statues by Paul Richardson, chatted to a woman artist who informed me that I hadn’t gone past the eco-café round the corner. I proceeded there (the name escapes me!) and ate cake and drank coffee before returning to Ambleside to take these photos.
Indian Charlie
This is a short piece of prose from the perspective of a six year old of mixed heritage (Indian and British). It is quite cute.
Indian Charlie
Every time my mum sees me cheer on England, she cries. I think a part of her is ashamed like I’ve joined the army, or killed a spider.
Art-inspired Poetry 2: Ode to Fluorescent Fruit
This is a short ditty inspired by this painting, which it would be helpful to see a higher resolution image of but the artist, Tom Hammick, has taken it down from the site.
W.J.G.S. 