Another day, another photo sesh. Same old routine… meet up with mate; grab some food; totally undecided about what to do next; grab some pics of, well, Bedford basically I s’pose.

Er… not quite.

For finally I have indisputable confirmation of what a right dodgy character mate is. Unlike me. Dunno why I associate with him at all really. Could do no end of harm to my reputation as a fine upstanding citizen wot never gets up to anything in the least bit dodgy. Ahem.

So, the whole thing starts with me getting into town, doing a couple of necessary tasks (that entail parting with money… why do these tasks always entail parting with money?), then sauntering casually toward our normal meeting place.
During which casual saunter I happen to casually pass by one of those PCSO types (CPSO? Never can remember which way round it goes). Anyway, one of those wannabe cop types.
Quite a sweet little thing she is. I’ve spotted her around before. Always looks deadly serious though. As though she’s “on a mission”.

Anyway, in the casually sauntering past I happen to casually overhear some of the message coming over her radio. Difficult not to overhear it really. She must have had the volume whacked way up. Clearly her hearing’s even worse than mine.

Something about some real suspicious character having been spotted, in, er… “James Street” I do believe (where the hell’s that? It’s a new one on me, and I thought I knew practically all the road names in the town). But he’s moving on now, though everyone should keep an eye out for him.

That’s about all I managed to casually earwig. Something along those lines anyway. Briefly mull whether its worth following her for a while to see if there’s some sort of story in it, or the chance of a few pics, but decide I can’t really be bothered so carry on sauntering toward meet-up with mate. (Not really very good at this off-the-cuff newshound type stuff. Just as well I’m not that sort of media person!)

Dammit, he’s early! There already, smoking a fag and waiting for me. So I roll one meself and we just sort of chill out for a few minutes while we finish our fags and contemplate the rest of the day.
Seems that whilst he was waiting he grabbed himself a few pics. Black and white (inevitably). Of some bicycle racks and stuff. In a little alley across the way.

I’m checking them out on his camera’s LCD and, ooh, I’m so jealous. They look really neat. On the LCD at least. Nice angles, great composition, some exquisite shadow and, well, quite super basically. Toerag! The least he could have done was wait ’til I’d arrived. Selfish inconsiderate bastard.

Fags finished we head toward our usual noshery, although I have to say certain of the attractions of that place have declined remarkably over the past couple of weeks or so. Food’s still good though.

Needs of the inner man satisfied, on with the pic-taking. In our usual indecisive manner. No particular place in mind. Weather a bit on the damp side. No great ideas grabbing us by the throat.

Amble slowly through town. Along Mill Street. Couple of pics along the way… and discover that the light’s really screwing with our exposures so we have to do a fair bit of tinkering with settings and wotnot.

Turn right past the church at the intersection with St Cuthbert’s Street. Hmm. This is the way toward the river. Bugger! Cos by some sort of unspoken agreement we’d both been trying to not end up by the river. Yet again.

Discussion ensues about who’s responsible for choosing this particular direction. Which discussion establishes only that a) mate’s useless at making decisions, and b) all my decisions tend to be crap ones. Didn’t quite answer how we came to be where we were, but that’d be expecting too much. Oh well.

Throughout which we are of course snapping the odd pic here and there… of a wall, a gate, and other bits and pieces. At which point these two guys approach us and enquire, quite pleasantly, why we’re taking photographs.

Reveal themselves to be plainclothes cops in fact! Wow! This is a first.

Now of course, wot with me being seriously into this photography business (ahem) I’ve heard all the stories about confrontations with cops and sundry other types. PCSOs (CPSOs?), private security, and even nosey-parker/paranoid joe public. Tales of arguments, arrests, seizures of cameras and suchlike.

A situation that seems to have been made considerably worse by the cop campaign (initiated, I do believe, by the Met Police) to brand all photographers as “terrorists”. With, I suspect, rather more than a nodding approval from the government that was (yet to see how this present one shapes up… but I’m not at all hopeful). Helped not a little by the introduction of that really nasty and totally ill-conceived bit of legislation last year.

One more step on the road to total domination by Big Brother. That’s how a lot of folk see it and, I have to say, I’m not inclined to disagree.
So widespread has this nasty “let’s brand all photographers as potential terrorists” trend become that a number of different campaigns (such as the “Photography is Not a Crime” one) have been launched to oppose it, and try to re-introduce a bit of common sense into the whole situation.

To the extent that there have been protests, and mass gatherings of photographers in various places, most notably right on the doorstep of the cops themselves outside New Scotland Yard no less, where said photographers (from the ordinary happy snappers right through to full-time press photographers, and everything in between) have exercised their right to take photographs in public.

All of which led to the Met Police having to publish “guidance” about the law relative to photography on their own website.

The whole thing’s a bit of a disgrace really, when it’s not being like something straight out of “Alice in Wonderland”. Or, more sinisterly, Orwell’s “Nineteen Eighty-Four”.
And in principle I totally support any initiative that opposes restrictions being placed on photography in public places, and any initiative that seeks to demonstrate how ridiculous the notion is that photographers particularly are potential “terrorists”.

However, back to the real world…

In the course of all my wanderings there have been many occasions when a casual passer-by has paused and enquired “What are you photographing then?”
Or “Why are you taking a picture of that derelict building/manhole cover/pavement/whatever?” (Cos photographers always take pictures of weird things. Nothing to worry about. It’s just the way we are.)
And even “Got any good shots then?”

All, to my mind, perfectly innocent enquiries, and customarily phrased in a non-confrontational and interested manner.
To which I have no hesitation in explaining who I am, what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it. Which very often leads to some interesting and friendly chats, where the enquirer actually becomes involved in what I’m doing, and frequently has led to them suggesting other places that might prove rewarding pic-wise.

I see nowt wrong with that and, in my book, it all comes under normal social interaction.

There have also been a couple of occasions (almost too insignificant to mention) where private security types have approached me when I’ve been photographing specific buildings.
Again, these approaches have not been what I’d call intimidatory and, understanding their concerns (after all, they’re only doing their job… as they see it) I’ve had no hesitation in chatting with them about what I’m doing. And it’s never caused me any problems.

Have I seen any of these encounters as “infringing my rights” to take photographs? No. Of course not. Don’t be bloody stupid. How does asking someone a question in a pleasant manner infringe anyone’s rights? It doesn’t. Or are photographers all so bloody precious and high and mighty that no-one dare ask us any question at all?

And by answering such questions in a civil, non-confrontational manner (much as any normal conversation between friends is conducted) we’re demonstrating to the enquirer that we’re not a dodgy photographer, we haven’t anything to hide, we’re not acting suspiciously and, more to the point, we’re not a potential “terrorist”.

Given enough of such pleasant exchanges all these folk that are paid to be paranoid (plus all those joe public who’ve been rendered paranoid by the machinations of the State) may actually begin to question the whole concept of photographers as terrorists and start realising how ridiculous the notion is. And leave us alone to carry on photographing weird things.

In an ideal world, people wouldn’t be so paranoid of course. But in an ideal world there wouldn’t be terrorists anyway. Nor any of the nasty things (usually done by countries who insist on dictating to others how to live their lives, or interfering with other countries, or raping other countries for their resources) that tend to lead to terrorism.

There’s another dimension to this as well, which is the media-spun idea of all photographers as possible paedophiles. But that’s another matter entirely and not really relevant here. Though equally as ridiculous of course.

What about cops then? What about when they ask questions? Well, isn’t that a large part of their job? What they’re paid to do?
Yeah, you may be going perfectly innocently about your business, but how do they know that? And if they see something that, to their mind, looks worthy of questioning, then what’s so wrong with their questioning it?

Now don’t misunderstand me. I’m not defending the cops, or the way they far too often imagine themselves to be above the law. I’ve personally witnessed sufficient incidents of cops abusing their authority and treating innocent people with total contempt that, for the most part, I regard them as scum. State-sanctioned hooligans and thugs who like nothing better than to dominate and dictate to others.

All too frequently they seem totally incapable of determining what’s an appropriate response to a specific situation, with the result that so many situations end in pain, suffering, or at the very least major inconvenience, to members of good old joe public. It sometimes seems to me that as soon as a cop puts on his uniform he must divest himself of his brain… and possibly even his conscience. (Although I’ve said “he”, “him”, and “his” this applies equally as well to female cops!)

Unfortunately, it seems to me that cops aren’t the only ones that appear incapable of determining appropriate responses.

Now, as I’ve said, I’ve heard loads of tales of encounters ’twixt cops and photographers that have ended badly… frequently with the photog being nicked and carted off to the local cop shop.

And I can’t really comment on any of them. Cos I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t there. Sure, I’ve seen videos and photographs and stuff of such encounters. And of course, as we all know, videos and photographs never lie, do they? Not even inadvertently. Yeah. Right.

Naturally I’ve read the accounts of such encounters (or been told about them). All too often these accounts being those rendered by the “interogatee” themself. Sometimes I’ve even come across snippets of such accounts by the “interrogator”.
One has to ask though, how reliable are they? Which is not to say that the person rendering the account is being deliberately misleading (or worse) but simply acknowledging the possibility (indeed, likelihood) that such an account would tend to be slanted in favour of the person giving it.
Nothing unusual in that. It’s a perfectly normal human trait. The tendency to show ourselves in the best light possible. We all do it, in some way or another. Ego-driven maybe, but still a perfectly normal human trait.

However, when it comes to determining what’s actually happened, this trait means that descriptions by the parties involved should be regarded with some circumspection.
And aside from such inherent bias, there’s also the possibility that little bits and pieces (highly relevant bits and pieces as it happens) may have been unintentionally missed out.

Little things like facial expression; body language; tone of voice; attitude.
Ah yes… attitude.

Y’see, whilst I can’t comment on any of these incidents that I’ve read or been told about, I can comment on things I’ve witnessed for myself. And on my own experiences.

Which causes me to wonder whether, in many of these incidents, the photographer has immediately challenged the questioner, in terms of the right to ask the question.
And whether the photographer has then straightaway gone on to recite his own rights re the taking of photographs, and how there’s no law requiring him to identify himself or whatever (which isn’t strictly accurate nowadays, but let’s not get too picky).

In other words, an immediate assertion of one’s rights at the first hint of being questioned.

Logically, legally, there’s nothing wrong with that. Yes, we could all do it if we so choose. But that approach, if adopted at the outset, betrays an attitude… a bad attitude.

It seems to me there’s nothing wrong, no surrendering of one’s “rights”, with answering a question courteously if it’s asked courteously.
And, in my book, answering a courteous question (“What are you photographing then?”, or “Why are you photographing that?”… the courtesy not necessarily being in the way the question’s phrased, but in the general approach, tone of voice etc) with something along the lines of “The law gives me the right to photograph in public places and I’m exercising that right” does not constitute a courteous answer.
Nor does “By what authority are you asking me?” or “I am not required to identify myself to you, or explain what I’m doing”.

They aren’t courteous answers even if the question’s asked by a cop. At the very least they’re provocative answers. Some may even describe them as confrontational. And if you really want a confrontation, well, don’t moan when you get one.

Yes, stand on principle by all means, assert one’s “rights” by all means… but only if the situation warrants it, and if it’s an appropriate response. Otherwise it just means your attitude sucks, and you really do need to get over yourself. And that you’re not very good at weighing up situations. Too focussed on self prob’ly, and not giving sufficient thought to why a situation may have arisen.

I suspect this whole attitude business is all part of, and fostered by, the society in which we live nowadays. What I call the “me me me” culture. “You have rights”. “You have entitlements”. “You have a right to this”. “You have an entitlement to that”.
The consumer culture feeds into this as well… “You can have this. And you can have it today. Right now”.

It’s all about the individual. You. Self. And precious little about community. About consideration for others. About thoughtfulness, and all working together for a common good. And about responsibilities that inevitably accompany freedoms.

When we get on to rights and entitlements, its worth considering that every “right” you exercise, every “entitlement” you claim, is in some way taking something away from someone else, somewhere. What of their rights and entitlements?

So, you have the right to photograph someone in public. But in exercising that right do you not also need to give some consideration to their right not to have their photograph taken… yes, even in public? (As I understand it the law currently runs something along the lines of your being able to legally photograph other people in public places where there is “no reasonable expectation of privacy”. That doesn’t mean someone can’t object if they see you taking their photograph and are distressed by it. Although they may not have, yet, any legal recourse other than the often dubious claim of harassment.)
By exercising your right you’re effectively encroaching on theirs. Ok, maybe theirs isn’t a right yet enshrined in Common or Statute Law, but it seems to me it is at the very least a moral right.

If you believe you have the right to take someone’s photograph then surely its only fair, proper, and just that they have the right to decline having their photograph taken. Or do you think your legally sanctioned right should take precedence over their moral right, even if your legally sanctioned right causes them distress?

Well, I don’t think that, and that’s not the way it works in my world. I try to consider other people’s concerns when they express them. And if they have objections then I’ll listen to them and, where possible, seek some sort of acceptable resolution. I also try to anticipate whether photographing someone would cause them distress or embarrassment or something. And if I think it would… then I won’t take the shot.

Unless it’s of mate of course. If I think there’s the slightest chance it’ll cause him distress or embarrassment (hopefully both) then it’s guaranteed I’ll take the shot. And chortle whilst doing it. Cos he does the same to me. Frequently! But that’s what mates are for.

Regarding anyone else though… treat people fairly. Treat people as you’d like to be treated yourself. Try to gain an understanding of their situation, and of their concerns.

So when someone (yes, even a cop) asks me why I’m photographing something, or what I’m photographing, I try to understand what prompts the question, and where he (or she) is “coming from”. And (even though I’m not a gambling person) I’d lay money on them not having as their foremost intention any encroachment on my “rights”.
Therefore, it’d be entirely inappropriate for me to answer as though they had. Particularly if the question’s been asked in a polite, courteous, even friendly manner.

My likely response is going to be equally as polite, equally as courteous, equally as friendly.

Arguably they could be more respectful of my rights, but if they think they’re seeing someone acting suspiciously, or if someone’s reported “suspicious” behaviour, then how are they to determine whether or not that’s the case without asking at least a couple of questions?

The thing that photographers can so easily overlook is that “ordinary” people, non-photographers, frequently don’t understand why we take the photographs we do. Why so many shots of a particular building for example. Or why a seemingly uninteresting bit of road. The list is almost endless. Nor let’s overlook the really dodgy stuff… like photographing CCTV cameras for example. How many “ordinary” people, non-photographers, would immediately see the irony in that?

And if “ordinary” people, non-photographers (and don’t forget that, in this sense, cops are “ordinary” people too), don’t understand what we’re doing or why we’re doing it, is it really any surprise that they may become somewhat suspicious?

Its human nature… to be suspicious or, at the very least, wary, of that which we don’t understand.

What needs to be challenged isn’t the cops and others asking such questions, but the whole perception that photography is a “suspicious activity”. And such perceptions won’t be changed, or suspicions allayed, by responding to a couple of innocent questions arrogantly or aggressively. If anything, those perceptions will be reinforced, and suspicions heightened.

Its the cause that needs to be tackled… not the effects.

So here we are then, at the end of this huge digression, at the intersection of Mill and St Cuthbert’s Streets, being approached by this couple of plainclothes cops asking what we’re taking photographs for.

Correction… it’s actually mate being approached. But mouthy little sod that I am, I jump right into the conversation.

“Purely for our own enjoyment”, sez I. Whereupon I launch into a whole spiel about photographing the entire county (for “documentary” purposes of course… can’t resist any opportunity to plug the old “Bedford Archive” project) and so on and so forth.

Which leads me neatly into rabbiting on about how I’ve been all over the area during the past few years and this is the first time I’ve ever been questioned by a cop about what I’m up to. Which in turn (opportunist that I am) leads neatly into my launching into another spiel about the “Photography is Not a Crime” campaign and how this whole nonsense about photographers being potential “terrorists” is a load of… well, nonsense.
Not omitting to mention, casually in passing so to speak, about photography in public places being perfectly legal. To which they respond (no doubt thinking to themselves “Oh, we’ve got a right one here; just our luck”) “absolutely”… or something like that.

All done in a very pleasant, friendly manner (even though I can see I’m beginning to bore them to tears). Quick flash of the Press Card and it seems they can’t leave us quickly enough. So we’re on our way, carrying on with our pic-taking.

No big confrontation. No fleets of riot vans turning up. No arrests. (Pity really. That would have made for some good pics. And I may even have managed to flog me story to The Guardian or something and earn some money for a change. Oh well.) All conducted in a very civil manner. And the message being pleasantly conveyed to them that here’s two more photographers who aren’t terrorists.
Well, I’m certainly not. Can’t speak for mate though. He’s right dodgy. As I may finally get around to revealing.

Yes, it’s a sad bad world when we can’t go out somewhere innocently taking some photographs without being questioned, and quite rightly we should try to change that. But it’s also a sad bad world when we regard every situation as an affront or an encroachment on our “rights”… and that’s not the way to change things!

Interestingly, and as a complete aside, mate believes he recognises one of these cops as being the self-same one that so helpfully assisted us way back in August last year to do our pics for the “Not a Crime” campaign…

Maybe. Maybe not. Could just be lookalikes. If it was it’s strange that he didn’t remember us.

Now, where were we?

Ah yes. Despite all our (albeit half-hearted) efforts to the contrary here we are, once again headed in the general direction of the river.
But there, just over there ahead of us and slightly to the right, is the notorious Castle Mound.

Notorious for us at least cos on the three or four occasions we’ve been up there, full of excited anticipation of getting some really good pics, what we’ve actually ended up with has been memory cards full of rubbish.
Generally being accompanied by its either being too windy, or too cold, or too whatever it may be that causes us to lose all interest in taking pics. Consequently, Castle Mound is generally a place we try to avoid.

In fact, it’s almost become something of an “in joke” with us. Whenever we’re undecided about where to go (which is most of the time), one of us will customarily come out with “Well, there’s always Castle Mound”. The very mention of which causes such a state of repellance that we rapidly reach hitherto elusive decisions about locations that don’t include Castle Mound!

This time, bizarrely, was a bit different though. Possibly because it wasn’t too cold. Wet, yes. Overcast, yes (though there were bits of blue floating around the sky). But definitely quite warmish. Should be ok then.
Not that we managed to get any decent pics of course. That’d be too much to ask for.

Thing with Castle Mound is, because its relatively high up we’ve been fooled into thinking that all sorts of wonderful vistas will open up before us. Which they never do. And which we never seem to remember. Basically, its pretty boring up there.

So we come back down again and, surprise surprise, find ourselves wandering along The Embankment, by the river. Ho hum.

Not too far however before we hear this rumbling noise in the sky, and it all goes dark. And a bit of a wind starts up. And wet stuff starts slowly plonking on us… big drops of wet stuff.

“Let’s head back to Castle Mound. There’s that shelter up there where we can take cover, keep dry, and photograph the rain. If we’re really lucky we might even get some lightning.”

“I’d like to photograph lightning”, sez mate. “Wonder how you’d do that?”

“Um… point your camera at the sky, wait for the lightning to come, then click the shutter thingie” sez I, always helpful.

That’s about typical of the sort of level at which we discuss all the technical aspects of this ’ere photography caper, usually interspersed with reminders to “take the lens cap off”. Well-merited reminders as it happens. Yep, we’re well into the technical side.

Back up on Castle Mound mate dumps himself in one corner of the shelter, I dump meself in t’other. Whereupon we roll ourselves some fags and contemplate the joys of a British summer.

Thing with this Castle Mound shelter though is that it’s not actually enclosed. Not as such. Its “walls” are rather more like a wooden fence thingie… with gaps in. Big gaps. Through which rain can come. And does.

So there we are, sitting on the ground in the corners of this shelter. The corners nearest the river. The river being the direction from which the wind’s coming. The wind that’s blowing the rain before it. And we were sat in these corners smoking our fags… exposed to that wind. The wind wot’s blowing the rain before it. The rain that’s being blown through the gaps. It gradually, ever so slowly, dawns on us that whilst we’re sat here, in the shelter, taking cover from the rain, so that we don’t get wet, we’re getting… er… wet.

A discovery that was announced with a comment along the lines of “Um… I think we’re getting wet!”

That’s prob’ly why mate and I are mates. It’s this bond thingie. This mutual, shared… stupidity! Sometimes I really do despair of us.

Stand up and move in closer to the centre of the shelter then and sort of… hang around doing nothing much at all really. Move back to the outer bit of the shelter when the wind drops a bit and take a load of boring shots of quite boring stuff mainly. The river, a few passers-by. The sky. That sort of stuff. All quite boring.

Time for another fag then and, whilst we’re there leaning upon the rail thingie smoking our fags we spot this person heading (purposefully by the looks of it) toward us. A bluecap!

Lemme explain… Bedford has these people called “bluecaps” (I think they’re employed by the Council) who… well, I don’t really know what they do. Most I’ve seen them do is sort of stand around in the town centre trying to look helpful and giving directions to people and stuff. Sort of one-man (or woman) mobile tourist information office type function I guess.
And they wear hiviz jackets. And blue caps. Hence the name. (And other clothes as well of course. Else they’d likely get nicked by the cops. And there’d be loads of Council people with red faces. Heh heh.)

So, this ’ere bluecap’s heading toward us.

“Here we go again” sez I. “Bet someone’s reported us for taking photographs and she’s come to investigate”.

Well… not, apparently. Not according to her story at least. That would have us believe she’s come to check whether there’s any new graffiti in the shelter. Yeah. Right.

Doesn’t stop her asking what we’re photographing though. All very pleasant and friendly-like of course. So I launch into my now well-rehearsed routine that, instead of boring her (unlike the cops) actually sparks some interest.
Which sets me off on my whole “Photography is Not a Crime” speech. And explaining how daft it is to suspect photographers of being potential “terrorists”.

I ask you, would a real terrorist (well, a successful terrorist at least) with an ounce of brains wander around looking like some dodgy photographer bloke, with a whacking great dSLR (with a 5.5″ long lens attached… not including the hood) draped over his shoulder, loitering and quite obviously taking photographs?

Sure, there’s the old “double bluff” gambit. But give it a moment’s thought and you’ll soon see why that just doesn’t work.

No, if I wanted images of somewhere for nefarious purposes I know exactly how I’d go about getting them… and no-one would even realise what I was doing. And I bet these terrorist types are a damn sight more cunning than me.

So come on… photographers as terrorists? Gimme a break.

By this time we’re really chatting about stuff, this bluecap and us, stuff not entirely unrelated. And learning some interesting stuff.

Like, for example, how when she was walking across the grass toward us she couldn’t help noticing (odd that, how she just happened to notice) how mate matches the description of some dodgy bloke that had been seen in James Street earlier in the day. A description that’d been given over her walkie-talkie. Undoubtedly referring to the same dodgy person I’d heard being reported on that PCSO’s (CPSO?) radio. Moreover, a dodgy person “suspiciously” taking photographs.

“James Street?” asks I. “Never heard of it. Where the hell’s that?”

“Runs between Woolworth and British Home Stores” she answers.

Bingo!

That alleyway. That’s exactly where mate was taking his b&w shots of those bicycle racks before we hooked up. He’s the dodgy bloke! And they’ve been having a Bedford-wide manhunt for him ever since… prob’ly tracking his every move so to speak.

That could explain why we were (so unusually, for Bedford at any rate) accosted by those cops in Mill Street.

It’s not just any photographers they’re targeting. Its him!

I always suspected he was dodgy, what with his black hoodies and rude tee-shirts and, and, and… stuff. And cameras and stuff. And other stuff. And he’s violent as well. Keeps trying to kick me into ditches and things. And hit me with lumps of wood. I should have known. He’s quite obviously a wrong’un.
Clearly I should stop hanging around with him. It’s bound to have a bad effect on my reputation as a fine upstanding citizen that never gets into any mischief at all.

And definitely as dodgy as photographers get. Like that incident with the ATM thingie at the Bank. But that’s another story.

Yet there’s me, unawares all this time.

Meanwhile, back at the shelter…

Conversation with bluecap is still proceeding, and there I am now sniffing around for a bit more info. And I may, inadvertently, by accident as it were, just happened to have flashed me Press Card as well. Just by chance you understand. Must have popped into my hand without me realising.
Amazing how it encourages some folk to chat though, even when they don’t want to.

So there’s me, sniffing for info. Like, for example, how complacent the town generally is toward photographers and suchlike and yet here, today, we’ve plainclothes cops wandering around the streets questioning them. And PCSOs (CPSOs?) tracking them. And bluecaps not investigating what they’re up to, just by coincidence.

Wouldn’t happen to be anything “going on” would there. Like, for example, some new yet unpublicised “terrorist alert” in the town?

Bluecap can’t say anything. In fact, goes to great lengths to explain that though she hears lots of things she can’t say anything. Quite firm about it she was. Can’t say anything. A simple “no” would have done.
But I’m media. Sort of. And, despite all my stupidities and slowness in other areas, I have a firm grasp of the lingo.

I tell ya, this photography caper leads one into all sorts of interesting situations, and finding out about all sorts of interesting stuff. Most of which I keep to meself of course. Cos I’m like that.

Ho hum.

[Edit 10.06.2010 - Mate's much distorted version, unfairly casting me in the role of some egotistical old sod wot wants the limelight all to himself (um... isn't that wot photographers are supposed to be like anyway?), is here!]