With this article begins a sub-series of blogposts about the many encounters I experience whilst out shooting. In a year that I have spent so much time on my own, I feel the need more than ever to share the nonsense that happens along the way. Thanks for reading!
On 30th September I headed to the tiny village of Arrington in Cambridgeshire which lies forty miles north of my base. Because of the pandemic and the rural setting I called the bus operator CG Myall & Son (as suggested online) to verify the timetable. It turns out that the bus I needed only runs from Royston rail station to Arrington once a week on a Wednesday. That was lucky, as I had planned my visit for a Wednesday purely by chance!
No. 15 to Arrington
About that phone-call! A man called Andrew answered the phone, and I told him about my intended journey. We got into a detailed conversation about where I should wait for the bus to be sure that I made this vital connection. I was looking at a bus route online whilst talking to him, and the suggested rendezvous changed throughout our conversation. Andrew informed me that “a lot of old people will be getting on at Morrison’s”, and said that “we do have some individuals that get picked up” (not at a bus stop), and that he would inform the driver about my planned arrival.
Upon reaching Royston I left the station, and all those instructions blurred a little. However, I knew which direction I should head, and found my way to the bus stop. After around ten minutes a little white bus appeared, just as Andrew had explained. I hailed the driver, and got aboard, lowering the average passenger-age by twenty years. The driver immediately asked are you the lady for Arrington? I said I was, and “one pound fifty isn’t it?”, to which he replied I guess so! It was heartening to think that Andrew had asked the driver to look out for me, and it’s this kind of human interaction that I appreciate and enjoy. If I might add, I believe there is in fact a lot more of this behaviour about than many people allow themselves to believe!
Before leaving London I had noted that there was a farm in the vicinity of Arrington, so one of my goals was to find myself a farmer to photograph - something that I have been seeking for a while. On the day, as I walked away from the village, I turned onto a public footpath where three large grain-silos stood in the distance: they quickly composed themselves in my head as a photograph. To avoid traversing a muddy field I went back to the road, and headed for a garden centre I knew existed, as nature was calling - a frequent hazard on these trips. Their toilet was closed to the public, so it would be hours before I satisfied that need, but this article isn’t about that!
It seemed polite to ask permission to photograph the silos (thoughts of land-intruders and rifles came to mind!), as I would need to get fairly close, and the Hasselblad camera is not discreet. I walked toward the farmhouse to ask permission, then a man in a Range Rover came up the driveway toward me. I flagged him down, and asked if it was his farm: completely unfazed by my questioning, he sent me onto the house with a smile, telling me to ask his brother who was inside. As I continued walking, a man in overalls appeared and he was walking toward me. I assumed he was ‘the brother’, but it turned out that he was the driver’s nephew. Now I had got to the bottom of who was who, I asked if I could photograph the silos, adding that “a photograph of you would be even better”. He agreed to both, so we trundled across a bare field and I took the shot below.
Farmer Adrian stands on farmland owned by The National Trust and managed by his family since the early 1970’s.
Taking it all in, Tulse Hill.
My following trip was to Tulse Hill in south London. I travelled by bicycle, setting off at 6.30am with the intention of capturing the sunrise. It didn’t quite work out that way, but I had my bike locked to some railings on the edge of a large housing estate by 8.30am. I walked around, scoping out potential scenes, as the sun burned off the cloud. I had made a good start, despite the cold, and before long I had reeled off my first roll of film, positioning myself outside a small health centre to take a breather and to change films.
I was gathering my thoughts and pondering whether to capture a scene that was on my left: On the corner of a crossroads stood three school-aged girls (sixteen perhaps) talking in an animated fashion, typical of teenage girls. Visually they were a good representation of people their age, but running through my head were the implications of asking them to stand for a picture: would they be interested/ cooperative, and also about the fact that you need to get a parent/guardian to sign a model release form if you are aged under 18. I considered taking a shot discreetly, as I could have easily photographed them incognito. My thoughts were abruptly shaken when a fourth girl approached from nowhere and threw a punch at one of the trio. Mayhem ensued!
There was a lot of shouting from the girl who received the first punch; mostly in anger about how the other girl was pulling on her braids. At some point she broke free, and tied her hair up saying something like ‘Let me put my hair up and then I can fight yeah!”. Events were happening at speed, and I considered intervening, but I would have had to leave the camera standing on a tripod further up the road. Within minutes (seconds?) a lady, who was much smaller in stature, but no less vocal than the teens deftly weaved between them. More people gathered, and there was a lot of stopping and starting between moments of calm, and reprisal. I am pretty sure I shouted ‘break it up’ at some point, but it all happened in a blur. If I had been shooting on 35mm I definitely would have grabbed an action shot!
A little bewildered I moved on and continued my exploration of the area. I captured various scenes, but my first two attempts at a portrait were not successful: one man who was a mobile mechanic, and I think could have made a wonderful picture told me he was ‘optimistical’ about what I would do with the photograph. I think he meant sceptical; fair enough. Next up were two women who were sat on a brick-wall, simultaneously talking and looking at their phones. To me it was a wonderful scene of our times, but they were not so keen, and one of them told me “I feel ugly today”.
My portrait-luck changed later that day: I was allowed access to South London Botanical Institute which is only open on Thursdays, and lo and behold I was there on a Thursday (can you Adam and Eve it?). You are supposed to pre-book, but no other visitors were due at the time I turned up, so these lovely people let me in: one of the gardeners, and a volunteer.
My most recent trip was to Haywards Heath, somewhere else I had never been before. I had a great time there despite the weather, and me getting soaked three times. Not to mention…
It was absolutely sheeting it down when I took this shot, so I am wrangling an umbrella and a lens cloth whilst trying to see what I was doing, and get the attention of the sitters. Luckily, Richard, photographed was familiar with photographers and their whims, and was a really good sport!
On my way back to Haywards Heath train station a large taxi (VW Transporter perhaps) did a U-turn and swept into the side street I was crossing. I saw part of the bonnet and soon realised he wasn’t going to stop, so I went with the movement, managing to keep my footing. He wasn’t going fast thankfully, but it was still quite a surprise as the vehicle nudged me along! I don’t even know if I banged on his vehicle or shouted something, but he wound down his window and he looked genuinely baffled when I told him that he just ran into me. I stated the obvious (very politely I might add) that he needs to look where he is going! A few vehicles stopped and I think the driver in the first vehicle asked me something, but I honed in on a Royal Mail driver who asked if I was okay, and then, “are you sure?”. He made a face that said ‘unbelievable’. At least I was reassured that I hadn’t imagined it. I ambled off down the street, amused by the weirdness of it all. Within minutes I was approaching the train station, near which is a florist. Outside the shop was a large single rose, with a sign suggesting to take a rose for anyone who needs a little pick-me-up. I decided I did, so stuck my head in the door, and told the florist I was taking her last rose and thanks very much! I hadn’t realised that morning when I left the station and observed a whole load of these roses, what their intention was. That to me was a wonderful demonstration of how quickly our fate can change, and how little we can dictate day to day; thankfully this time the incidents were on a minor scale.
I’d love to hear about any amusing or unexpected encounters you’ve had recently, so feel free to comment below, or send me an email.
Take care of yourselves,
Amanda