[ Journal 2016 // June ]
Sickly strong and chemically pungent smoke enters the window of my room, adding another irritable layer to already upset and watery hay-fevered eyes – neighbours at the barbecue again. If only he’d put something on it. What book today will accompany me into the evening? Davidson or Petersen? Petersen. Tea on. Too warm today for a bacon butty or anything requiring an oven – salad’s too much effort so I juice all manner of vegetables. Tastes like what I imagine a muddy puddle of stagnant water to taste like that’s been pissed in by a cow. Bottle it. Fridge it. Post-it-Note for the girlfriend for when she gets home, ‘For you babe xxx’.
Start to imagine a world that has changed and becomes a TrumpWorld and where the extreme right-wing Brexiters have won. Chill at the thought. I also imagine what the mju-ii will be like when it arrives. Since I don’t like mixing format/ratios I decide to start all on-going projects from scratch and figure to do better with the next attempt. Fifteen months without a drag, six without a drop – look at me all clean and pure; dryer than the feet of the soldier on the Seine in Paris – still tempted to throw a stone into the darkly ponds. But I can’t. Order CR123 batteries, rolls of film, sip tea and wonder how long it will take to vent-through the smell of the barbecue – hours; some shit just lingers.
The Royal Three Counties Show
Get a train to the Royal Three Counties Show in Malvern. The train ride is pleasant. There was a derailment at Paddington Station but luckily for me it didn’t affect my service out of London. Everyone else was fucked though. Bum to seat, coffee to mouth, music to ears and the quick transitioning of mustard-coloured brickwork of London blurred quickly into the rolling fields of green.
Wasn’t too sure what to expect when there, but was hoping for some sheep. I wouldn’t say that I was disappointed, but I tend to move fast and can be done of things within a couple of hours if I feel I have what I want. If I was shooting with another, I may have lingered and stayed longer, but I was alone, as per, and my feet ached like mad (was up at 4am to get the 6am train out) so I made my way home to London with a few shots. I wouldn’t say that I was over-the-moon with them, but it’s a start – my first real venture away from the capital to find some hope and a little glory.
The EU Referendum
I’ve had a strange feeling inside me ever since the EU referendum result that went in favor of leaving. I feel as though we’re terribly detached from the rest of the continent, but moreso for the fact that we have to accept the result and follow the views of the far-right into an uncertain future. I will never follow their view – I feel as though I’m just being dragged along into that uncertainty and there’s not a single thing that I can do about it. I cannot make the uneasy feeling in my stomach go away – I really want it to go away. This is not the England I am in love with, nor is it the England I want to call home.
As for film, well, I haven’t put the mju-ii through its paces yet and I am really looking forward to doing so. I’m desperately trying to reconnect with the Nikon dslr – it’s been tough, but I think I’ve found a place within all its dials and buttons and whatnot that I am comfortable with. Here are some shots that I took at a recent Pro-EU rally in Trafalgar Square.
Mju-deux … your time will come.
The sweetness of giant strawberries from Herefordshire, its juice seeking passage through the brittle hair on my chin. The sun departs from the chorus of its summit – gentle through island clouds of lavender to darken this land of unrest. Sip Yorkshire tea from a Poland cup, the sizzling of lasagne sauce overflowing tins in the oven, Vaughan Williams on the radio, the magpies and their caw in my garden as I stand and watch man walk knowingly into the path of his own oblivion.
‘Baby,’ I call up to the girlfriend, ‘these strawberry’s are fucking amazing!’