Occasionally I like to have a break from writing to take some snaps. I like photography because it’s the nearest thing I get to painting. I like painting. I just can’t do it.
I did a portrait of someone once and the person in question asked me to destroy it after and never spoke to me again. So I packed away my paintbrushes and took up writing. That way I couldn’t offend anybody quite as much.
Photography is a nice relaxing departure from writing (or painting). It’s like walking round with a gun. When you see something you shoot it and hope everything turns out alright. Mostly it doesn’t. Sometimes it does.
The snaps below are the ones that did and are all from a 0.5km radius of where I live. Incredible what you can see when you want to.
Not a job for late risers such as myself (no pun intended)
If this shop sold wine, it’d be the best shop in the world
Never seen a sand dredger look so beautiful.
Never realised how close the French word for fish, poisson, is to poison.
French fish ‘n’ chips?…Not
And you think you’ve got it hard. I’ve got to live with him.
Imaginary boules, anyone?
Took me weeks to realise what this meant. Despite living in one of the biggest oyster producing areas on the planet…
Just popped out for a loaf. How about you?
The only Post Office sign in the world that could double up as an airline logo.
And you said the hotel was where?
François! I can’t get a picture. I thought you said you’d put the satellite dish up!
Is that an eye looking at me?
I live in France because they have the best public toilets in Europe.
Chez moi…(well, behind it. In the wooden hut that’s totally obscured by its grandness)
If I owned this, it wouldn’t be a yacht club. It’d be a bar.
This is fun, isn’t it?
Living here would be one long table tennis tournament.
After five days here, I’ve realised that I don’t live in Andernos-Les-Bains at all. I live in Taussat-Les-Bains, which is the next village up.
And to add to the confusion, I was just about to change the title of the Blog, when I noticed on a letter that my official address is actually in Lanton, another village 4 km down the coast. So I left it as it was. For now… Continue reading “197 – The Lanton Pancake Run”