A Fool's Guide to Photography
I won’t lie, there's a small, resentful part of me that always hopes the whole thing will be a bust. That the sky will simply turn to a dull, uninspired grey, just so I can feel smugly justified in my lack of effort. But alas, on this particular evening, my cynicism was thoroughly misplaced. The sky erupted into a riot of crimson and gold, a spectacle so breathtaking it almost made me forget my own grumbling nature. I just stood there, watching the hues deepen, and I couldn't help but wonder if somewhere down in Australia or New Zealand, a fellow shutterbug was cursing their alarm clock for not having woken them up sooner.
It’s all about lists!
Right, so, lists. You know about my lists. I have lists for lists, probably. It's a sickness, I admit. But honestly, who doesn't get a little thrill from a good, solid tick? A proper, emphatic tick, like you've just wrestled a badger and won. Anyway, Ayrmer Cove. It's been on the list. For ages. I was starting to wonder if someone had just made it up, like a mythical land where socks never vanish in the dryer.