On a dull, drizzly, day, I scanned the rest of the rediscovered negatives from December 2003. Therein lay the mystery.
Yesterday, I had put pictures of snow in Sherwood Forest into my iMac.
Today, I began with frost on leaves in our garden at Lindum House in Newark.
Every morning, at 6.30 a.m. or thereabouts, before dawn at that time of the year, I crept out through the garden ‘unwillingly to’
Newark Northgate Railway Station to join commuters on the down platform to Kings Cross. By the time the train was due to arrive on this particular day the sun was casting long shadows. Most people in this shot were looking in my direction for our conveyance. Like me, the man in the foreground had learned that one received an earlier alert by watching the signal. Those trains not stopping at the station travel at 120 m.p.h. Prospective passengers are warned to stand behind the yellow line in order to avoid being drawn into the path of the Intercity conveyance. I won’t describe what happens to those who ignore the precaution.
That December, Sam was not at home in Newark. He was out basking in the Canary Islands, where the boat he was to row across the Atlantic had been delivered, and he was becoming accustomed to both it and the ocean. So, how come, on the same roll of film, sandwiched between the images above and those of ‘Oddie Aloft’, were
Sam in Pacific Pete at La Gomera
and on the wide open sea?
I was not there. Had I lent my son the camera? Maybe he will elucidate.
This evening we enjoyed further portions of yesterday’s superb paprika pork, followed by Magnum ice creams. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Costieres de Nimes.