I took this today, outside the pub. It looked sort of plaintive.
Phone photography has come a long way in the last few years. Time was when no one would have taken photographs taken on a phone that seriously unless they were looking for a deliberate low-res effect.
Nowadays we don’t just have the in-phone camera, but a variety of apps for photo manipulation.
This was taken via an app called RetroCamera for the android.
Because I’m a bit OCD, and a tiny bit bonkers, I like repetition. I like those little Perspex boxes you can buy where identical blobs of coloured oil run down a chute of some sort and fill up the reservoir at the bottom, at which point you turn it upside down and the whole thing starts again, and I like hour glasses, and sand pictures and consequently I like series of photographs of the same thing.
At one time I used to wait for the train in the mornings (and sometimes later) at this point on the platform of my local tube station, and got into the habit of taking photographs of this tower block quite regularly, in various climes and seasons of the year.
I’m thinking I will post them here as an occasional series, since there’s quite a few of them, displaying the changing face of this one view of London.
I like this idea.
There’s nothing much I can say about this. This family was on the opposite platform when I was taking photographs, and this image kind of looked good when I checked through the shots.
Why do Ravens hang around in cemeteries? If you read the answers posted across the net you will find that the crow family (which contains Ravens as the large scruffy cousins) are thought to be the escorts of souls to the afterlife.
Realistically, Crows and Ravens are carrion eaters, and are attracted by the smell of death.
They are beautiful birds, and apparently highly intelligent, for birds anyway. Finding one perched on a gravestone was an open invitation.
Rumours had circulated for a couple of years about an evil pigeon, haunting the South Bank, and terrifying tourists and art lovers with its devilish glare.
I set out to find this beast, and trekked along the route of its reported sightings, between The Globe Theatre and the Tate Modern, for the best part of an afternoon, but saw nothing apart from Damien Hirst who was popping in with a barrel of formaldehyde to top up his shark tank.
Suddenly, I got an eerie feeling that I was being watched by something soulless and malign and looked up to see this…