This way please…

Wedding Sign

Cartmel, Cumbria, UK.

A response to the Weekly Photo Challenge, Trio




Back on Track

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Happy Place.”

I am blessed to live in an area criss-crossed with public footpaths and bridleways.

Perfect for that week-end recharge.

Here are three instagram edited snapshots taken close to home. Not masterpieces but they sum up some of my happy places.


Which Way Now

Which Way Now

Towards The Light

Towards The Light

A Bright Spot On A Cloudy Day

A Bright Spot On A Cloudy Day

Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vertigo

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “ROY G. BIV.”

Unlike my much beloved, I had not heard of Roy G Biv as a method of remembering the colours of the rainbow. In our school, we learned:








I’d enjoyed looking at several responses to this prompt and had been stuck for a suitable shot until this morning, when I saw the spines of the unwatched films in a Hitchcock box-set. Ok, so there’s one extra shade in there, but I was struck by the coincidence of the seven other spine colours.

Like most of the films so far, to good to miss.

ROYGBIV - Hitchcock Style



At The Same Time

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Intricate.”

Intricate does not always mean small.

We came across this splendid device in the formal gardens of Culzean Castle, near Ayr in West Scotland. We had visited the castle before, but must not have visited the walled garden. Standing on its plinth, this multi-faced sundial towered above me and told us over and over that it was about 12:30.

I remember wondering at the amount of thought, effort (and time!) which would have gone into designing this intricate timepiece.

Many faces, but giving the same answer. We could learn something from this.


Intricate Sundial

Time for lunch?

Catching The Worm

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Early Bird.”

Crisp Morning Light

Crisp Morning Light

It was the Sunday between Christmas and New Year, and many people were sleeping off their seasonal excesses. The cache had been launched the previous evening and we headed off to try our luck at being the first to find it.

Our dedication was not only rewarded with a clear log book, but also with crisp early morning views over the marshes towards Wales. The sun was still low when we took this shadow selfie.

I particularly liked how the light picked up the frost on the marsh reeds, and the subtle differences in the sky colour.


Geocaching Bubbles

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Afloat.”

But could also have been included in the photo challenge : “Blur”

I had been searching for this photo when the Blur challenge was posted, but it was only this week when I was considering Afloat that I stumbled across it.

We were on a short geocaching trail and had found the third of the morning. Geocaching so much more than just finding and logging. It is also about the journey, local history and geology. And TREASURE.

It is possible leave or trade “stash” (as it is sometimes known), and we have some physical mementos with personal connections or which can transport us back to the find.

Some of the best stash is meant to be shared but left at the cache. On this occasion, a bubble blower tube.

So, there you have it, two “middle aged”, should know-betters, hiding the bushes and blowing bubbles, unbeknownst to the dog walkers passing by just yards away…

If you go down to the woods today....

If you go down to the woods today….


60k On The Clock

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Ephemeral.”


I make no apology for the quality of the image. This was taken when I was a passenger in my husband’s car, and the milometer had just done that magical thing and moved on from 59999 to 60000. Not everyone gets so excited about that moment but we did. We patted the dash and said something like “Good old Dave, 60k and still running well”. All our cars have had names. At least since I decided they should. Now that is a whole new thread….

Reading the title of the photo challenge, my mind was initially pulled towards clouds, sunsets, magical views glimpsed by chance. I then started to consider the definition:

 Lasting for a very short time

And I thought about our place on earth. We each last a very short time, relatively speaking. As I trawled through old photos, looking for a moody graveyard shot, I came across this, and I thought “Ahh, yes.”

It’s a pretty poor example of digital photography (I think that I used my then phone, the trusty HTC Radar), but it captured that moment. Actually, it didn’t. A single shot couldn’t capture the exact moment that 60k showed up. You would need two shots, before and after. Better still, a short video clip.

But why did I bother? Why were we so hung up on capturing that moment? It was meaningless. Just a number. Made less significant by the fact that we didn’t buy the car from new. So this didn’t mark 60,000 miles together. We were on our way back from a short holiday. It seemed appropriate at the time that our automotive buddy had hit the Big Six-O on a journey home. Why? I honestly have no idea.

On a related note, the break had been postponed because we had been caring for our sick cat when first planned. He wasn’t well enough to stay in a cattery, so the holiday company let us reschedule. Said cat died the following new year.  After a good innings, but relatively ephemeral existence. We are accustomed to marking significant anniversaries. Birthdays, weddings, important events in history. I understand that.

What I don’t understand is my need to sigh wistfully at about ten past six on a Sunday evening, and think about that cat.

I might raise a glass, or mug of tea, sometimes, “To our dear lost friend. Never forgotten”. The time varies, I can’t even get that right because at on the original Sunday evening, I was more consumed by the sadness of the situation to take note of the exact time of departure. Why the ritual?

I can only assume that I, like many others, do this to not forget. It’s a practice that was instilled in many of us at a young age. Remembrance Day, St George’s Day, Christmas. Each on their own set day of the year. Why should we be forced to feel grateful, patriotic or celebratory at these times? I can be paralysed with grief over the loss of the cat at the unlikeliest of moments. I can also be minded of his traits and I will smile. I won’t forget. The Sunday ritual only serves to keep the wound fresh and do I really need that?

As I write this post, it is the first Sunday of British Summer Time (yes it’s all ours folks!) The clocks have been moved forward.

What could more ephemeral than an hour taken before it has started.

I wonder at what time I should raise the glass?