Mill Road Movers And Shakers

The annual winter fair took place in Cambridge's Mill Road at the weekend and I went along as I do most years. All along the length of the road there were food stalls and craft stalls; brass bands, rock bands, folk bands and buskers; morris dancers; guided walks; artists and poets; churches handing out free mince pies; samba bands leading parades; Father Christmas and....well you name it. But how could I photograph it a little differently and capture some of the colour and movement?

The rapid hands of Arco Iris Samba Band

Slow shutter speeds blurring the movement was my tentative answer. As you'll see some worked better than others - and as you won't see many were miserable failures!

The local Fire Brigade were manually pulling one of their fire engines

through the street

The University's Lion Dance Troop

One problem I hadn't anticipated was that, though the performers could be blurred nicely, those watching were static, and this distracted from the action. A lot of tinkering of the computer solved the problem for the shot above.

Cambridge Morris Men

Morris dancers proved unexpectedly tricky to photograph in this way.

The dancers of Ely And Littleport Riot

The colourful dancers above required an enormous amount of work on the computer to give any sort of image: interesting but not what I'd envisaged.

Arco Iris 

The samba band, Arco Iris, gave their usual colourful and extrovert performance which I hope is conveyed by the pictures above and below.

I also got several useable shots of the parade....

I didn't catch who was responsible for the vibrant carnival parade and I can't find any mention of them on the Winter Fair website. You get used to these unexpected happenings on Mill Road!

Colonel Spanky's Love Ensemble

Bands with unlikely names were everywhere - Release The Chimps, The Galapagogos, Jason and the Skagonauts, Shake Your Tailfeather, Ember Rev, Fruity Clave and of course Colonel Spanky, all provided musical entertainment.

I tried to capture the chaos of the crowded streets and just snapped a few slow, blurry shots as I walked along. I rather like the impressionistic feel of this one, with just one face showing clearly through the patterns.

And finally......

These gentlemen are not for blurring!

(For a more literal interpretation of the Winter Fair see my earlier posts here, here and here).

Take care.

Non-Political Views

A selection of views which I've enjoyed recently, none of them the sort voiced at length by politicians campaigning for Thursday's General Election.

We've had a few frosty mornings lately, some of which have also had some accompanying mist or fog. This is that glorious time when the first rays of sun break through to light the last few golden leaves. Dawn transforming into day at the same time as Autumn slides into Winter.

Another view on the same day and along the same path, a path which used to lead to the hamlet of Moor End. The houses have long gone and it's just another ploughed field these days. The other evening however I was checking something on the Ordnance Survey maps on my computer and I flicked to the aerial photography mode. As if by magic you can still make out the shape of their gardens by darker marks in the soil, though nothing is discernible down here at ground level. 

You weren't expecting that, were you? That, lit by the first rays of morning sun, is Johnson Matthey's factory, a major employer in the Royston area. It looks a bit out of place here, in the fields on the border of Hertfordshire and Cambridgeshire. You might think I'm making some kind of environmental point here, but read on. The firm specialise in precious metals and started out ensuring the quality of gold and silver for the Bank Of England. Today they make catalytic converters which lower the pollution from cars and they also make similar devices to reduce the emissions from factories and power stations. So part of the solution rather than part of the problem then.

Even when the sun rouses itself to climb above the horizon in December it doesn't get very high in the sky. The British Isles are surprisingly far north - nearer the North Pole than either Newfoundland or Vladivostok! It's the ocean currents that give us our mild climate.

This may look as though it's somewhere up near the Arctic Circle, but it's actually in the Brecklands of Norfolk. The sandy, relatively unfertile soil has long been used for timber production. In recent decades the Forestry Commission has begun leaving clearings like this for the benefit of wildlife; woodlarks and nightjars are among the birds you might see here in summer.

And this is the ornamental lake that was constructed for Lynford Hall, which is surrounded by the commercial forestry operation. It's a magnet for bird life with many species present, but not the Hawfinches which are what I'd hoped to see.

And this has suddenly sprung up on Wicken Fen recently. It looks like a traditional hayrick that you might have seen in the countryside a hundred years ago (though probably not just here), but in fact it's a work of art called "Mother". Here's what it says online:

"MOTHER... is new artwork by Studio Morison, inspired by the restorative qualities of the beautiful fen landscape as described in Richard Mabey's book 'Nature Cure', and childhood memories of visiting the Fens and the Wash".

If you look closely on the right-hand side you'll see a narrow aperture that you can just squeeze through.....

Once inside you can gaze up at this ornate wooden roof. I'm not sure what to think about this piece of artwork but everybody else I speak to thinks it's marvellous.

Sunset is ridiculously early in winter, starting in mid-afternoon. This was taken long after the sun had sunk out of sight, looking across Burwell Fen, part of a re-wilding project NE of Cambridge. You can just about make out the Konik ponies which graze the land. The evening mist is just beginning to swirl around their feet.

Believe it or not I had to tone down the lurid orange sky to make it believable on these last two shots! A few last-minute geese cross Burwell Lode as they fly to roost. We'd been watching a Barn Owl hunting in the dusk as darkness crept over the land.


Take care.

The Joy Of Music

For this week's Music On Friday we're off to explore another musical style and a musical genius who has given me more joy and astonishment than anyone else I've discovered in recent years. I have no idea how well-known he is, though I suspect not as well as I think he should be. Let me introduce you.

He began, like many other important musicians at an early age, first trying to play at the age of two and within a couple of years had taught himself a huge repertoire of pieces. His parents recognised his extraordinary talent and arranged for him to have lessons to refine his technique. By the age of nine he was playing with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra at The Barbican. He's gone on to play concerts worldwide and make recordings.

His talents baffle even other professional musicians. For a start he has the gift of perfect pitch and can name any note he hears, including sounds from things like trains and vacuum cleaners. Lots of musicians have some of that ability and a few can even recognise two or three notes played simultaneously, but the musician we're discussing here can recognise more than a dozen notes played at the same time. He also has the ability to recall and play almost any song he's ever heard. Not only that but he can play them immediately in any key you like to name and in any number of styles. I'd better tell you his name...

Now if you've heard of him before you're going to think I've missed out something about him. If you've not heard the name you may be surprised by what comes next. Away from the piano his life has not been without challenges, but he's first and foremost a musician - and a very good musician at that. His name is Derek Paravicini and he also happens to be blind, autistic and have severe learning difficulties.

A few years ago I was working with a young boy who'd also been diagnosed as autistic. He was no musical genius though he did love music and possessed a fine sense of rhythm. I quite often brought CDs from home for him to listen to, some he liked and some he didn't care for. But he was immediately captivated by Derek's piano playing and listened intently to the whole recording...then wanted it played again...and again.

Derek puts lots of short videos on YouTube which you can find here:
https://www.youtube.com/user/derekparavicini where you'll also find links to many documentaries and talks about Derek's music.

But the one I enjoy most is this one with keynote speaker, Amy Brann, and his piano teacher and friend, Adam Ockleford
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5vUyqXWuoY

which gives, for me at least, the most respectful insight into his talents.


Take care.

An Unplanned Jaunt

I didn't expect to find myself on the wide open hills above Royston early on Monday morning. It happened like this...

I just popped outside to photograph the crimson skies of the pre-dawn, but as it was frosty I'd put on my coat, boots, hat and gloves and grabbed the rucksack that had the camera in it. Having taken a few pictures I noticed several people making their way to the village railway station. I had a sudden idea.

As I had no maps with me I'd take just a four-minute journey up the line to Royston and do a walk I know well. It looked like it'd be a fine, though chilly morning.

By the time I was tramping up the path beside the Heath the sun was just peeping above the horizon. A proper landscape photographer would have sussed out the best viewpoint and would wait patiently for the sun to flood its light across the scene: I decided to press on - while waiting here I might miss something elsewhere and I'd get cold too!

I love the look of frosted leaves as well as the crunch of them beneath my boots. The path led between the rolling arable fields. It's a rather austere and uncompromising landscape, though not without a strange scenic charm which is difficult to describe and harder still to photograph.

Just before Therfield I said hello to a fine old gentleman walking his dog. He introduced me to his canine friend and asked about my route. After a couple of minutes we were somehow talking about the hills of Northern Scotland. "I can't walk and climb like that any more", he sighed. "I've still got the books though! With a glass of whisky I can imagine my way back into the Highlands!" His dog may have heard all this before and showed she was keen to continue the walk, so we went our separate ways, a little cheerier for our brief chat.

Apart from a few motorists I didn't see anyone as I walked along Pedlar's Lane, skirting the village of Therfield. I found the little gate to the sunken lane which leads out to the bare hills once more.

We have plenty of big arable fields in Cambridgeshire, but nothing quite like this. I think though that this area has been as treeless and hedgeless as this for centuries. Before big tractors trundled across the chalky soils this was sheep country with huge flocks grazing up here, especially during the summer months.

Where last summer's wheat stubble is still unploughed you can almost imagine sheep dotting the scene. I find the gentle heave of this solid ocean oddly exhilarating and with the ground still frozen hard, the air crisp and clean, and the track leading downhill, it's almost like having a huge encouraging hand kindly guiding you on your way.

The path leads through Thrift Farm then along a grassy stretch known as Kings' Ride. Indeed the sport of kings is still here in the form of a racehorse stable and a couple of thoroughbreds were being exercised on the gallops. 

There are several small woodlands and plantations along the steep northern slope of the hills and the low sun was only just raking through the trees in late morning.

There are long, grassy corridors following dry valleys leading down off the chalk lands. Could these be the ancient droves or driftways down which the flocks were driven on their way to market?

We're making our way towards the edge of the golf course and I noticed that the Par 3 Fifth is called "Shepherd's Rest". There's a short, steep-sided dry valley which would be an ideal sheltered nook where a shepherd might enjoy forty winks on a warm day. The golfers however cannot relax here; the tee is on one side of the valley and the idea is to float the ball across the deep intervening depression to the small green on the opposite side. Many little tracks leading down through the rough grass suggest that not all are successful.

It's getting towards mid-day and the sun is still just reaching some frosty pockets.

Just a few autumn leaves are hanging on in sheltered places along the way. Then a path will lead down across the golf course, alongside the rugby pitch and into the streets of Royston where I can call into the shop before getting the train home. I hope you've enjoyed this unplanned jaunt as much as I have.


Take care.

"Mr Noah Insists....

….that you step inside the village church and have a look at all the Christmas trees".

I mentioned in the last post that Noah the Donkey was being installed into his small pen just by the church door so that he can welcome visitors to the village Christmas Tree Festival.

Before going inside you need to make a fuss of Noah; it is the only entry charge, Be careful though, he sometimes nibbles hair and coats if he really likes you!

All the Christmas trees are decorated by various companies, organisations, clubs and societies in the village. And our very own handbell ringers will be playing carols (and very good they are too).

"So glad you could come. See you next Christmas!"

Take care.