GRASMERE. In A English Country Garden.

There’s the old song about counting the flowers that grow in an English garden, leaning on the idyllic image of the old, low cottage with roses around the door,

There’s the old song about counting the flowers that grow in an English garden, leaning on the idyllic image of the old, low cottage with roses around the door,

You see, the thing with photography is that for all the technology etc there’s still a few things that are in the lap of the Gods.

It’s not a rainy night in Georgia, it’s a rainy morning in Lancaster. I’m off and away to Cumbria using the excellent Stagecoach Explorer ticket, as Arthur Daley would say, the world is my lobster. Looking at the weather I don’t think the usual photography will be high on the agenda but a ride out somewhere always provides some useful thinking time, so nowt wasted. And no doubt there will […]

A hop skip and a jump away by train, though it more comfortable if you sit down, is the Cheshire market town of Frodsham.

While I’m not a great fan of getting wet there is sometimes a bit of magic to be had walking amongst the flowers on a rainy day.

It has been a cool, drizzly day in Keswick but after the Sorchio weather at the beginning of the week that’s no bad thing. For all that it’s been another pleasant day in the Lake District. Here’s some of the fruits of a couple of hours wandering.