They’re all so totally different to one another

I like warmth! I revel in it. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, I love the heat. So I’ll be totally sorted when I finally (at long last) cross the Great Divide and end up where I rightfully belong… the Fiery Pits of Hell. Though if “mate” has anything to do with it they’ll prob’ly be the Fiery Ditches of Hell.

So much do I like the warmth that I try to keep my little abode at a constant temperature (Winter and Summer) of around 77°F (25°C). I’ve even been known to knock it up a coupla degrees or so when it’s really cold outside.

Now for me this is just a comfortable working temperature. Not too warm you understand. Cos if it’s too warm all I really wanna do is nothing much at all and slob around, giving all that gorgeous warmth a chance to soak into me old bones. Hmm. On second thoughts all I really want to do most of the time just happens to be nothing much at all and slob around, temperature notwithstanding. Ho hum.

So when I blearily peer out the window this morning and see grey sky and what looks like maybe a hint of rain I’m not expecting it to be too hot outside. Now this is something that needs to be remembered!

So…

[Insert standard (and getting to be fairly boring) boilerplate text here] Set off into town; meet up with “mate”; go grab some nosh; quickly invent produce my spur of the moment carefully worked out beforehand half baked detailed “plan” for the few hours we have free (that generally translates into some sort of mini photo jaunt); end up at the pub. [End of standard (and getting to be fairly boring) boilerplate text]

All frequently interspersed with flinging insults at each other, trying (and sometimes succeeding) to ruin each other’s shots and (opportunity arising and, more importantly, if we think we can get away with it sans reprisals) doing nasty things to each other.

Hmm. That makes it sound as though it’s all a fairly evenly matched “give and take” type arrangement. It isn’t of course. He bullies me. Cos he’s bigger than me (lumbering great Norfolk oaf that he is). So I’m usually the victim. And he takes grossly unfair advantage of my age and frailty as well… and my good and trusting nature.

Did I ever tell about the time he brutally and savagely kicked me over in Bedford Park… and then laughed about it? By way of clarification… that’s not “kicked me, over in Bedford Park”; that’s “kicked me over, in Bedford Park”; if you see what I mean. Which by my method of counting means it’s three times he’s kicked me over in Bedford Park!

That aside I also have to observe that these ’ere “mini photo jaunts” seem to be fairly rapidly and quite inexplicably turning into “hunt the ice cream van jaunts”.

So here we are then at Stage Four of the boilerplate text: The Plan! Carefully worked out in the minutest detail to accommodate all possible requirements, taking account of all likely eventualities. And I have to say, it was definitely one of my better efforts (cos apparently I’m now the official “planner”).

“Better” cos there wasn’t a great deal that could go wrong with it. Um. On the other hand [break camera? get caught in a hail of bullets from some lunatic on a killing spree? have an airplane engine drop on our heads? the universe gets sucked into a black hole? run out of tobacco!?!]… nope, it was definitely a good plan.

It ran something along the lines of a) drop in some JPEGs to the local Kodak shop for printing; b) go and slob around somewhere for a couple of hours; c) collect prints; d) head back to the pub. (With an “e)” in my case… drag me weary bones back home.)

The first bit works out fine… dropping files into Kodak shop (though we discovered quite by chance that they’d ripped us off over price last time we were there!). But then we hit a snag. Only a minor one but a snag nevertheless. Cos I hadn’t quite thought about where we were going for our slobbing around. Not precisely. Not as such. So we plonk ourselves on a handy wall and have a fag apiece whilst we mull. And hey… our first photo opportunity!

A lump of wood and some railings. Wow!

Now I could describe the wonderfully creative and profound “message” of this marvellously artistic piece of shit work, just to sort of explain what I’m saying with it as it were. I could analyse it, ponder upon the mysteries contained therein, and the deeply meaningful social comment it makes. I could. It’d be so easy. Too easy in fact. Even for an ignoramus like myself. But when all’s said and done it’s still a pic of a lump of wood and some railings. And some other stuff that happened to be there.

Pic-taking appetite whetted, somehow and quite inadvertently we find ourselves wandering along by the river… just by way of a change. And a few more pics.

Most of which were taken at the rear of the Council buildings, Magistrates’ Court etc. An area closely monitored by CCTV (but where isn’t nowadays, at least here in the good ol’ U Police State K?). So we were fully expecting some sort of security type knobhead to accost us and want to know why we were taking photographs of… er… paths and passageways and stuff. Disappointingly though it didn’t happen. Pity really. Would have livened the day up enormously.

Having lurked thereabouts plenty long enough to be accosted by that security type knobhead whilst we were suspiciously trying to take photographs (isn’t the taking of photographs always suspicious?) it eventually filtered through to our shared brain that it wasn’t gonna happen. (I’m sure it’s a shared brain cos neither of us seem to be equipped with a whole one to ourselves. It’d also explain all those really bizarre and somewhat disturbing episodes where I occasionally appear to be morphing into him.)

Time then to depart the river briefly so we could get to t’other side of the town bridge and thence rejoin said river along The Embankment.
Not before getting a bit sidetracked by a few bikes though. The sort that comes equipped with two wheels that’d be. Though there may have been a few occasions when we were distracted by the other sort as well. Knowing us.

Last time mate took some pics of bikes he had the entire Bedford police force out hunting him or so it seemed. Yet what happens when I take pics of bikes? Bugger all apparently. It’s just not fair. Oh well. Best we make our way onward to The Embankment.

Where mate just happens to discover an ice cream van. Furthest thing from our thoughts of course. Naturally. Ahem.

Plonk ourselves at the river’s edge then (though in my case not too near the edge just in case someone “accidentally” knocks me in… not mentioning any names or anything) and consume ice cream. And take a few more pics.

After which it’s just about time to start heading back and collect our prints from that Kodak place, and then… er… well, The Bear of course.

With me finally heading homeward. Only to discover, once indoors, that it was actually cooler (noticeably cooler) inside than out despite the seeming absence of that Sun thing in the sky. See? I said all that chuntering on about temperatures and stuff at the start of this post should be remembered!

And one final thought… what I really like about these little adventures of ours is that they’re all so totally different to one another. Ahem.

[Edit 21.07.2010 - Mate's somewhat garbled version, in which he quite unfairly characterises me as untrusting without clarifying why exactly, is here. Though I have to admit, he does make mention of the most important event of the day that, bizarrely, I seem to have totally overlooked!]