Tag Archives: postaweek 2012


Due to some stunningly bad housekeeping on my part ( well, I did warn him before he married me that I was a rubbish housewife) we managed to run out of soap yesterday.

“We’ll pick some up on the way to the studio”, says I. After walking round the shop three times and not being able to see any I asked the man behind the counter; “Do you have any soap?”

“Yes dear, all  different kinds. It’s all on the back wall. Look.” I was impressed that such a small  corner shop would have a whole selection of soaps. I turned round to survey my choices.

And  looked  up; at a wall full of tins and tins of assorted soups.

“No, I meant SOAP not SOUP.” The gentleman looked at me strangely.

“Hang on, I’ll try it in a local accent. “Av yenny sawp?”

Instantly his expression cleared and he replied, “Oh! Sawp “(funny to hear from an Asian chap). “Gnaw loov, wiv no sawp, only shower gel.”

Shower gel it is then.




Seemed like a good idea at the time

As you might expect as this time of year, it’s all a bit busy. Poor old Boofuls is working flat out to try and cope with everything going on at work. Why can’t these customers spread their orders out over the whole year instead of saving it all till Christmas? Talk about all or nothing, the poor blokes exhausted, or as they say round here, bollocksed.

While I was driving from one job to another yesterday I decided I was thirsty. Luckily I remembered a bottle of water that I’d bought previously so with a bit of wiggling and stretching I managed to reach it without crashing the car or mowing down unsuspecting pedestrians. Clamping the bottle between my knees as I drove I then proceeded to twist the top off the bottle, not terribly successfully I might add. The top stayed resolutely on the bottle as I drove over our lovely pot holey roads.

Thirst encouraged me to clamp my knees tighter for a better grip. Clam, twist, clamp twist. It’s working!

One more clamp, twist and…….fizz! WHAT?

Fizzy water fizzed out of the well clamped, bounced around and twisted bottle – all over my groin area! I  looked like I’d just peed myself. It’s a good job I had a long coat on to hide my blushes when I arrived at my destination.

Note to self: Next time, stop the car, check the contents of the bottle before giving it a good shake, open slowly. It might save embarrassment. Sigh.

Saturday in Skipton

D’you know what?

I love my job. That’s what.

Yeah, I know, I moan and complain when I have too much work and not enough time  –   but the bit that I became a photographer for in the first place, you know, taking photos, I love that bit.

I love the locations we get to work in and 99% of the time I love the people we get to work with.

Last weekend it was a wedding in a magnificent church dating back to 1200.  No mod cons, no WiFi, nothing but centuries of people. I wonder how many people have been married in that church?   It amazes me that that church has been at the heart of that small community for hundreds of years and it’s still a huge part of that community. That’s longevity.

The wedding was lovely, the sun shone ( a bit too much for my liking but don’t tell the bride I pray for cloud not bright sunshine), the ceremony was moving, the bell ringers and choir sounded celestial and the vicar hit just the right balance between warmth and dignity, the service was neither cloyingly sweet nor fire and brimstone stern.

Anglican vicars can be a bit sniffy about photographers and it’s not unusual for us to be banished to the back  if it’s a C of E church. That really annoys me.

The most important part of the whole day is the ceremony. Everything else is window dressing. Telling us that we can’t photograph the only part of the day that really matters seems like madness to me. Catholic priests are generally far more obliging. With them we usually get a much appreciated, “Yes, it’s their wedding, do what you like.” Of course we never abuse that privilege. Photographers who move about or use flash during the ceremony should be hung, drawn and quartered in my opinion.

Oops, I seem to have slipped into a bit of a rant there. Hung, drawn and quartered a bit much?  You think?

Let’s move on……..

Moving on  – and talking of medieval punishments….

We have another wedding coming up in an historic building we haven’t worked in before so today we crossed over the border and ventured in Yorkshire to check out the medieval Skipton Castle.

Yup. A real honest to God castle.

Did I mention that I like working in lovely old buildings with lots of character and hundreds of years worth of history behind them?

I love my job.