Fare Thee Well, Edinburgh

/ Mike / 10 Comments

Just before we left Scotland, I purchased an old Olympus OM-2N, keen to see if I would enjoy the simplicity of a film camera once again. As soon as I unpacked it, and held it, I knew it would be a joy to use. It felt solid, despite its small size, and loading in a roll of Kodak Ektar 100 and winding the film on brought back some wonderful memories. Click, click, click.

What better way to try it out than in my final days in Scotland. We’d sold the car, so I was back to taking the train in, and walking through the city to the Mayfield area, where I worked. Past the familiar sights, sounds and smells that have accompanied me every working day for the previous six years.

I had no time to get the film developed before I left. That small plastic canister has travelled with us to Canada and on to Australia, nestling in my luggage. I had no idea if the camera was still functional, or if the film would survive, until I finally found a shop in a local mall that could process and scan in an hour.

It was all worth it, if only for the sense of anticipation that digital photography denies.

Of all the cities I have visited, Edinburgh is the one that calls me back.

Fare thee well my own true love
And farewell for a while.
I’m going away, but I’ll be back
If I go ten thousand miles.
Ten thousand miles, my own true love,
Ten thousand miles or more,
And the rocks may melt and the seas may burn,
If I should not return.
Oh don’t you see that lonesome dove,
Sitting on an ivy tree,
She’s weeping for her own true love
Just as I shall weep for mine.
Oh come back my own true love
And stay a while with me
For if I had a friend all on this earth,
You’ve been a friend to me.
And fare thee well my own true love
And farewell for a while.
I’m going away, but I’ll be back
If I go ten thousand miles.

Walking to Shelly Beach

/ Mike / 6 Comments

Shelly Beach is my wife’s favourite in Sydney. I’ve noticed a habit of naming beaches around here after English poets.

We’ve discovered the Family Funday Sunday transport tickets – unlimited rides on bus, train and ferry for $2.50 on a Sunday. It’s a wonderful way to see the area around Sydney – not only do we avoid the hassle of parking, but we get to sail past the Opera House regularly, and that’s enough to put a smile on anyone’s face. Ride the ferry to Manly, and a short walk takes you from the bustling seafront to Shelly beach. As soon as you turn the corner around the bluff, it’s a quieter world.

Looking back at Manly on the way to Shelly beach.

Yes, it was as cold as it looked! Imagine having this salt-water pool on your doorstep. Apartments here go for a bargain $2.4 million.

Wonderful textures on the trees.

An interesting bric-a-brac shop on the way.

Rainy weather is a great excuse for ducking into a cafe…

Autumn Sunshine

/ Mike / 2 Comments

As the last sunshine of autumn left us, we tidied up the back yard and prepared for winter.

Easter Egg Hunt

/ Mike / 1 Comment

I’ve finally been catching up with the photos I’ve been taking since The Move, and found a set from Easter.

We hid a bag full of small chocolate eggs for our son to find in the garden of our rented house. As the garden is only slightly bigger than a postage stamp, it didn’t take him long to find them all. This didn’t seem to bother him, though.

Beach Colours in Winter

/ Mike / 2 Comments

I love beaches.

Not for lying on, covered in tanning lotion, frying with others, packed in on sun loungers.

Deserted beaches.

Winter beaches.

With a cold wind whipping up a spray, the sand not yet imprinted with human feet, the battle at the edge of the land rages on every second of every day.

A little bit taken away here, a little bit deposited there.

And the colours. Oh, the colours.

Moon Over Broadway

/ Mike / 2 Comments

Returning home from Sunday lunch in Manly, we passed a lot of building going on on Broadway. Luxury apartments that will look out over the city. The moon was starting to rise.

The Road To Nanaimo

/ Mike / 6 Comments

A wet winter’s day, waiting for the coach from Victoria to Nanaimo.

Time to board. “You need photo ID for those tickets”. Uh, oh. Apologies. The “I’m a stupid foreigner” excuse. We’re allowed on, with a disapproving sigh.

Find seats. Seats that get a window view for an excited three year-old.

The air is warm and moist, as everyone’s coat start to steam. Condensation on the inside of the windows, rain forming rivulets on the outside.

We’re off.

The most mundane of journey’s to locals, off to visit family, conduct business or have a wet day out.

To me, every mile we travel seems exotic. Lumber trucks carrying trees to mills. Low-rise buildings advertising unknown brands. Cars I don’t recognise. Even the road signs entice me, with strange-sounding names set in an unfamiliar typeface.

The journey is coming to an end.

Will our distant friends be waiting?