Yes it’s the good old Saga Louts performing their little hearts out once again, this time at Marwell Outdoor Activity Centre near Winchester. The Centre offers its visitors the chance to pursue lots of vigorous activities such as kayaking, abseiling and paintball against a beautiful backdrop of lush green Hampshire woodland. The Saga Louts and another band called the Soulcatchers were invited to the Centre in support of local disabled and learning disability young adults, many of whom were in attendance dancing, singing and squealing in excitement.
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Soulcatchers
The Saga Louts have a fantastic way of putting people at ease, creating a wonderfully relaxed and candid atmosphere where anyone can feel free to join in. And they did! They even let me loose on the microphone for a few seconds in the spotlight and everyone clapped and cheered. Aren’t they nice?! I’m sure my caterwauling set a few ear-drums on edge but in my head I mewed and purred like happy jaguar. On the drums was Amazing Alan, bass guitar played by Bewitching Bryan, Nutty Neil on lead guitar and Crazy Colin roaring out the vocals. John was official photographer and honorary soundman for the day. The entertainment was fabulous and I hummed rock ballads all the way home.
When John came to pick me up from my holiday he gave me a big bear hug (mmm!) and told me how pleased he was to see me (aww!). I had gone to spend a couple of weeks with a cat cousin of mine by the name of Holly because she lives in a fabulous country pen and needed a pal to help her through her troubles. As John drove me home, he told me all about his antics while I was gone, like the boat regatta he attended in Fareham (without me!) and the trip to the seafront with one of his daughters at midnight to take pictures of the ‘blue’ moon. Then he got this sheepish look on his face and admitted that he had written something for the blog (can you believe!). Yes folks, ‘the boss’ wrote something in MY blog! Just kidding! It wasn’t bad at all John, so thanks for looking after things while I was gone.
I met Holly a couple of months ago when she came into foster care having been rescued from a violent home situation. As you can see from the pictures, she was in a pickle for sure. Her tail was fractured, her jaw was damaged and she had a few teeth missing. As I walked towards this bony creature the first time we met, my delicate nostrils picked up the most unpleasant whiff that gradually became a stench and I could see her fur was filthy, like she’d been dipped in dirty bath. John told me it smelled like stale tobacco from living in a house full of heavy smokers and she had been kept as an indoor cat. The objectionable smell however was not the most noteworthy part of our first meeting. Rather it was her extraordinary personality that struck me. She dipped her head and came slowly towards me until we touched noses and her tail went straight up in the air, no heckles and no hissing. Despite the smell, we were soon rubbing each other’s cheeks and sitting next to each other comfortably watching the world go by.
So when John suggested that I spend my holidays with her, I was only too pleased to go visit. Image how thrilled I was to find her odour free and looking fab, with her white fur transformed from a yellowy-brown to a bright snow. We immediately connected, chasing each other around playfully while John unpacked my suitcase in the pen next door. After he left, Holly’s fosterer came to see us with a bowl of treats and hid them all around the pen for us to find. This was a big step forward for Holly because following her injuries she had previously been unable to close her jaw, resulting in her tongue hanging out all the time and a rather undignified dribbling problem. Her fosterer used to mash up her food which she then scooped up with her paw, yet here she was outrunning me to the biscuits and chewing like a proper cat. This explained her new found curves, dry chin and fluffy coat which she took pride in grooming every hour.
The lodgings we stayed in were full-board with everything included (meals, drinks, sleeping quarters and entertainment) and the rural surroundings were delightful. I spent many a happy moment watching the pigeons pecking berries out of the trees, the fish swimming lazily under the net in the lily-leafed pond and the resident cats strolling importantly past. I had a lovely holiday with my good friend Holly and it was a privilege to watch her become the wonderful trusting cat she always wanted to be. She truly is one of the strongest kids I’ve ever met and her high-spirited character was the magic that drew the attention of a kind-hearted family looking for a cat to adopt. When they came to visit, it was clearly a match made in heaven, with Holly smooching around the legs of all 3 humans, jumping on their laps and meowing demurely while they cooed all over her. Her kinked tail and goofy smile will always be a reminder of her past life but now she has an exciting future to look forward to. Congratulations Holly on finding a loving forever home where you will always be cherished.
While Shad is away visiting one of his many cousins, I have been let loose on the blog, dangerous I know. Considering I don’t have the flare and wit of Shadow.
So I thought I would make it easy for myself and share with you a typical summer weekend. If I’m not shooting a wedding or event; then I will be talking to a couple about their up and coming day.
I have a simple process I like to work through with a couple once they have confirmed a date with me. They will receive a simple shot list which covers the formal photos and gives them ideas about other types of photos I can capture during the day. Weeks before the date I will plan the wedding interview where I get them to nominate a member of the wedding party who will know most of the attendees, they will help with rounding up the guests when I start taking the formal photographs. We also talk about specific requirements including the church / venue restrictions, family photos they must have etc.
If I’m shooting an event then as most of you blog readers will know it could be for a charity, like this weekend I was asked to photograph a local regatta for Fareham Sailing and Motor Boat Club who were playing host to their members and the local Sea Scouts. Who raced up and down Fareham Creek in dingy’s and gigs.
Looking forward to when the boy returns and he will bring you his unique take on the world… He certainly can do better job than me!!!!
This entry marks the 150th article posted on Shad the Cat’s blog since John and I started it way back in 2012. To honour the occasion, I decided to give you a little insight into one of John’s pastimes. It’s a fascination with phone boxes. Large or small, red or tiger print, he loves phone boxes. When I’ve asked him why, he tells me that they are a cherished feature of his childhood and a reminder of a lost time, when he had to go out to make a phone call from the phone box just as you went out to post a letter. People must have moved much more in those days because John says there was no remote control for the television and eating cakes involved baking them first. If I had opposable thumbs I reckon I’d enjoy baking. I’ve watched John tackle enough flat blueberry muffins and one ton loaf cake to know what not to do! Although since he treated himself to the electronic bread maker, the standard of cakes in the household has taken a definite turn for the better.
The first telephone kiosks were introduced after the First World War when the telephone network was nationalised and owned by the General Post Office (a government department until 1969). However, other services such as the Police and the Automobile Association had also been developing a network of sentry boxes to enable patrolmen to communicate with each other. Since those humble beginnings, phone boxes have undergone a series of transformations, no doubt influenced by the privatisation of the telecommunications side of the Post Office business in the early 1980’s. As the design of personal radio equipment improved and telephone equipment became modernised, new British Telecom branded kiosks sprang up marking the decline of the red telephone box.
This historical icon has now been made obsolete by the rise in mobile communications and many red telephone boxes have disappeared from our streets. There are a few that remain standing, some unused and dilapidated, others declared listed buildings, or metamorphosed into cash machines, wildlife centres and even a miniature café in Brighton. It seems that the old-fashioned red telephone box is quintessentially British and holds a place in the affections of the nation which is why I have no doubt that John will continue to take me with him on his quest to photograph as many of them as possible. Next time you pass a telephone box, give a little smile to one of the lost symbols of our national heritage.
This weekend, the Saga Louts met 5 of their music idols in the zany form of AC/DC at Wembley Stadium. To remind you, the Saga Louts consist of 4 mature men with a talent for music and a passion for rock (not the geological kind)! I wrote about the Saga Louts some time ago when John and I went to see them in concert. By that I mean jammin’ it at one of their gigs in the pub! So John and the Saga Louts invited me to London to hit the curry house and watch one of their favourite heavy metal bands performing on stage. While we waited for the guys to meet us at Kings Cross train station, I amused myself by wondering where platform 9 ¾ might be until the sound of bears bellowing caught my attention. The happy hollering noises came from John and his brother and pals greeting each other warmly and exclaiming their joy at the upcoming show. I hopped back in my basket and we made our way to the hotel for a rest and refreshments. Next stop, Wembley Stadium!
We arrived early and the place was enormous, filled with rows and rows of bandstand seating, a huge stage at one end and a floor for standing in the middle which John referred to jokingly as the ‘mosh pit’. As time went on, more people arrived and after John explained what ‘moshing’ was, I decided this wasn’t my cup of tea, too crowded and noisy. So John put me in a taxi back to the hotel where a nice bowl of fish flakes was waiting for me. He arrived back in the room at 1am looking happy and sweaty! Apparently AC/DC slammed out a relentless celebration of rock and roll while the masses heaved in delight. Fireworks, explosions and confetti accompanied the grand slam of distorted electric guitar and thunderous drums. Despite their age (most of the band members are in their sixties), they strutted up and down the stage, gurning and grinning with their straggly hair stuck to their wet faces, often making a wild noise that seemed to leave the crowd mesmerised. Apparently they came to rock!
I awoke in the morning bright and breezy, unlike John and the rest of the crew who were very tired so after a hearty breakfast to fuel the fires, we headed across to Hyde Park for a leisurely walk. Hyde Park is one of the largest parks in London, situated next to Kensington Gardens close to the main entrance to Buckingham Palace and the Horse Guards Parade in Whitehall. Aside from a few joggers and dog walkers, we had the park to ourselves possibly due to the dark clouds and refreshing spots of rain that were starting to fall on us. One hot cup of coffee (and a warm saucer of cat milk for me) later, more hugs and manly taps on the shoulder indicated it was time to go our separate ways. I suspect John’s ears are still ringing from the concert but he would tell you that it was totally worth it.
From a pin-point image on a pewter plate with a mix of toxic chemicals, to the invention of Polaroids and into the digital age, the photographic process has undergone a series of radical transformations and improvements. In the early 1800’s, photography was a hobby accessible only to professionals or the very rich, but now it is open to the mass market with modern electronic media allowing both professionals and amateurs the chance to produce high quality images that can be stored and shared at the touch of a button. Many of the photos John and I looked at over the weekend were taken on 35mm film cameras with a small single lens and no focussing adjustment. But their beauty and simplicity helps to keep history alive as I discovered when John told me some tales of the people posing in the portraits.
John’s Mum and Dad
John’s Nan
John
John’s Dad and Grandad
John& His Mum
Eddie John’s Dad
Thomas J Jefferies (John’s great uncle) served in the Royal Navy and spent time aboard a training ship called the HMS Impregnable (launched in 1810). It was a 98 gun 3-decker ship with a wooden hull and I imagine life for the crew was hard. Food was generally boiled by the cook in a large copper pot and weevils were regularly found in the bread. The food must have been of a questionable quality given that the only way of preserving meat was to keep it in salt and most other foodstuffs were supplied dried. Having said that, Thomas J Jefferies probably faced many dangers from life at sea as well as disease and the perils of war, so mealtimes were probably considered one of the highlights of the day.
HMS Impregnable
Presentation Bible
Photography must be in the blood as John’s great great grandfather William J Cornwill (1861 to 1943) was also a photographer. He must have witnessed some exciting changes in photography because he would have been around when a man called George Eastman started a company called Kodak in the 1880’s. Eastman created a flexible roll film that didn’t require the constant changing of solid plates and created a self-contained box camera that held 100 exposures of film. The user would take pictures and send the whole camera to the factory for the film to be developed, giving rise to the first camera cheap enough for the average person to afford. Strong opinions also run in the family apparently as William J Cornwill was an exponent of reinstating Middlesex as a county and he even appeared in the local Surrey Comet to state his views. For those of you that would appreciate a quick history update at this point, the City of London in the 12th century was able to exert political control over Middlesex and began to expand its boundaries resulting in problems with the administration of local government. Eventually Middlesex became absorbed into Greater London with small sections in other neighbouring counties.
William J Cornwill was married to Fanny Withers, an entertainer on stage, and had several children, as was the trend in those days. Two of his sons, William F Cornwill and Douglas W Cornwill, served in the First World War and one son named Horace Courtland Jason Cornwill was reported missing in action on 7th October 1916. He survived as a prisoner of war in Germany working in the coal mines before being ex-patriated on 15th February 1919. All this information might have been lost if it weren’t for the fragile black and white pictures that John has kept safe all these years and the names and dates written on the back of many of them. Traditional film-based photochemical methods of photography are now a part of its past and new technology does have many practical advantages. But whatever methods you use to store your photos, whether it’s in an album or in a cloud, you should write about them or label them so your history is never forgotten and your memories can be kept alive.
These are taken from the many photo’s passed down to John from members of his family!
04.02.1935 – Return from Gibraltar for repairs.
04.02.1935 As a result of a collision between HMS HOOD and the HMS Renown
A veiw of HMS Courageous over the tail of an aircraft
Many of the shorelines along the south coast are lined with rows of beach huts Worthing and Bognor Regis sea fronts are no exception. Beach huts are a quintessential characteristic of British seaside life and their beginnings can be traced back some 250 years to a time when no trip to the seaside was complete without a ‘bathing machine’. Apparently these vehicles were like beach huts on wheels drawn by horses who pulled them towards the sea so that the bather could step directly into the water without risking their modesty. By the 1890’s it became more acceptable to walk across the beach in a bathing costume and share the beach with members of the opposite sex and before long villages of stripy changing tents were erected on the Edwardian sands. Eventually bathing machines lost their wheels and our modern day purpose-built huts began to appear, constructed in a similar style and painted in bright colours.
Judging by my walk along the seafront with John, there are plenty of beach hut fans out there because all but one of the beach huts we saw were well maintained. A crowd of crows gathered on the top of their favourite hut and squawked their approval as we ambled past. When John and I stopped to sit on a bench, we got chatting to a nice mature couple resting in deckchairs on the patio of their own beach hut, all too happy to regale us with the joys of beach hut life. They offered us a cup of tea and a biscuit while we watched the jet skiers zooming around on the water and I gazed out to sea, wondering what kind of life lay beneath the shimmering surface.
There are some wondrous creatures in the sea like the Thornback Ray found in shallow waters all around England or the dolphin, a highly intelligent and social marine mammal located across the world. I looked at the fishing gear sitting on the shingle close by and wondered how many of the ocean’s dolphins and sharks were caught right at that moment in discarded fishing line or huge commercial fishing nets. These nets are often left behind by irresponsible trawlers and travel many miles across the deep, risking the lives of marine animals that become trapped in them. John showed me a video the other day of some kindly humans relaxing in their cruise boat somewhere near the equator when they spotted a sea turtle in distress and stopped to free it from its ropey tangles. Sea turtles are one of the earth’s most ancient creatures having been around since the time of the dinosaurs so I was pleased to see this little guy rescued to continue its legacy. Scientists estimate that around 26 million pounds of plastic travels from land to the sea every year contributing to massive floating patches of rubbish that kill one million sea birds and 100,000 marine mammals.
As John and I stood up to take our leave and head home, we thanked our generous beach hut hosts for their hospitality and made our way back along the dried grass pathway adjacent to the beach. John stooped down to pick up an empty plastic water bottle that someone had left on the ground and I contemplated the lovely afternoon we had enjoyed with this couple who represented a time of trust and simplicity which I liked. I also liked them because they gave me tea and biscuits and they clearly had taste, having spent a considerable portion of time stroking my fluffy black cheeks and admiring my plucky personality! Next time I go to the beach with John, I must remind him to pack a little picnic.
With all the beautiful sunshine we’ve had recently, I thought I would remind you of the wintry season we have just left behind, lest you forget to enjoy the nice weather while you can. Do you remember the crunchy cold snow under your boots, the dark damp evenings and that morning feeling when the alarm clock screeches at you and your paw peeks bravely out from under your thick duvet as you resolve to get up? I remember putting on my Christmas scarf and heading out into the bracing winter air with John to Bushy Park, the second largest of London’s eight Royal Parks and one of John’s favourite places to go. It’s a picturesque mix of woods, gardens and grassland that provides a haven for some of Britain’s wonderful wildlife.
The big attractions are the herds of roaming Red and Fallow Deer that live and breed in the grounds. Red deer are Britain’s largest land mammal although their size varies according to their habitat and the resources they have available to them. The big fellas at Bushy Park are obviously well provided for and their buff coloured rumps stood proud some 50 or 60 inches off the ground. I remember one particular trip on an autumn’s day when John and I crept stealthily towards a stag with our cameras poised ready, getting closer to a magnificent male and capturing some great shots. He had the biggest antlers I’d ever seen, may be 28 inches high with several branches coming off the main stem like a glorious crown. We were careful not to get too close but those gosh darn incredible ears of theirs are so efficient that he picked up the sound of a twig falling to the ground near us and lifted his head, making direct eye contact with me. I froze in wonder at this beautiful beast and he simply huffed warm air out of his moist snout and walked casually away. Respect!
There are lots more temptations to lure you to Bushy Park like the herons, ducks and swans that inhabit the ponds. My favourite duck is the mandarin pictured here with its red beak, handsome black and white stripes and rusty brown mane. It’s like an aquatic version of a tiger, only smaller with fewer teeth and feet. Alright it’s not much like a tiger, except perhaps the golden colours and debonair demeanour. But I did see a lion at the Park which some clever person fashioned with snow and a few sticks and leaves!
If you’re a water baby and enjoy the sploshing and swishing noises made by rivers and fountains, you would have liked the flowing stream and stony waterfalls that roll through Bush Park’s grounds. I only like water when its warm and I can splash through it because I don’t mind getting my paws wet. But ever since I fell in the fish pond at home I’m not keen on too much of the wet stuff so I kept well away from the edge. I recall positioning myself perfectly for a shot of the chilly water cascading under the bridge and across the rocks when a grey squirrel darted past me and put me off my stride. My camera tilted sideways so the shot was at the wrong angle and my paw slipped on a patch of damp moss resulting in a rather undignified sidelong lurch. As I made my recovery I caught a puffed-up green parakeet sniggering at me from the branch over my head. With a cold belly from hitting the ground during my embarrassing incident in front of the parakeet, John picked me up gently and took me back to the car so I could curl up on the backseat with my special heated cushion and dream of chasing that cheeky squirrel!
It was Celebrity Pro-Am Day at the BMW PGA Championship 2015 and John and I were there as part of the photography team. The event featured professional golfers like Lee Westwood and Rory McIlroy getting together with celebrity amateur players for a round of golf and the chance to raise money for charity. The location was Wentworth in Surrey, a prestigious golf and country club with a spa, a dress code and a ballroom full of sparkly dangly decorations that made me want to leap in the air and grab them. John said the Club might not appreciate me playing with their crystal ornaments so we decided to go outside.
The golf course was immaculately kept as though someone had been over it with a pair of nail scissors. Every building maintained to the highest standard, every inch of grass trimmed with precision, every drop of water in the fountains and ponds glistened in the sunlight. I was blown away by the beauty of it all, wondering how amazing it would be to live here as a cat, chasing the ducks and climbing the trees to admire the boundless vista. Just as I pictured myself rolling around in the soft warm sand of the freshly raked bunkers, John told me to stop daydreaming as play was underway. Thinking about it, I doubt that an exclusive place like Wentworth would accommodate a pussy cat with foibles like mine!
John said there were some famous people driving the green including Chris Evans (the radio DJ), Ian Wright (the TV presenter), Jamie Redknapp (the footballer), Declan Donnelly (from Britain’s Got Talent) and the charismatic Anton Du Beke, professional dancer on one of my favourite TV shows Strictly Come Dancing. It’s no secret that I love the ballroom with all its glittery costumes and graceful steps. Unfortunately there’s nothing glittery or graceful about the way I move, but I still got style!
Golf seems like a difficult game that requires practice and skill but it was clear that the players and spectators were resolute in their enthusiasm about the tournament and its outcome. I personally enjoyed the day thanks to the lovely landscape, amusing outfits and peculiar phrases. I heard people talk about lag putts, lip outs and long irons, and there were several mentions of an eagle, but I didn’t see it. Top of my amusing terminology list is a waggle (a move of the club from side to side before starting the swing), a whippy (used to describe a flexible club shaft) and a whiff (when the player misses the ball altogether after making a swing).
Almost two-thousand runners gathered together on Bognor Regis seafront to push their personal boundaries by running 10 kilometres in the beautiful Sussex sunshine. John and I decided to show our support by joining them. Not for the run of course. I would if I could, but I have an old hip injury from the great ping-pong ball chase of 2011 when I ran too fast across the lounge and reached high velocity, resulting in a spectacular slide through the kitchen and crashing into the litter bag. Since then I’ve left the running to the experts. It has nothing whatsoever to do with my generous waist circumference or love of chicken nibbles!
The road race has been staged every year since 1995 and attracts serious runners as well as individuals and families who want to have a good time, raise money for charity and fulfil personal achievements. The runners jogged and sprinted from West Park in Aldwick to Butlins and back, passing the sun-bathers on the shingle slopes and the jet-skiers propelling their noisy engines into the waves. I had to take my hat off to the this chap who looked to be well into his seventies dressed as a can of beer collecting money for the Rotary Club of Bognor Hotham who organised this event as part of their community service and fund-raising programme. He puffed his way past, lifting each leg just an inch or two off the ground, pushing himself forward with an exhausted smile on his face, while some kind passer-by tapped him reassuringly on the shoulder. Then he stopped to give me a stroke which felt a little sweaty but I appreciated the gesture and responded with a chirpy chirrup to cheer him on.
As some of the runners passed the finish line, John and I decided to enjoy an ice-cream along the esplanade and watch the band playing heartening music in the bandstand. I took a lick of the creamy treat John had bought and contemplated those crazy days when I was a kitten chasing ping-pong balls around the house, leaping up the windows to catch a fly or climbing the bed-post to walk across the beams up by the ceiling. I took risks back then that I wouldn’t take now, but I didn’t have the wisdom to choose the right ventures. Now I have the understanding I need to know what’s worth pursuing but I don’t have the fearlessness to pursue them. Funny how life goes! But perhaps I don’t need fearlessness, just the energy and courage to fight for what I think is right. Today it’ll be encouraging an old man to finish a race, tomorrow it’ll be rescuing a worm from drowning in the pond, the day after that, who knows what opportunities for kindness the universe will bring my way.
shadthecat 