Captive memories

The photos on our phones

I wonder what we have in common, you and me.  Are you reading this with a sense of connection, my musings relatable?  Or maybe there’s a sense of escapism, do you look forward to the recipes or the blether?  I am humbled that there are now so many of you here reading every week and I love writing and creating these blogs, stories, rants.  I wondered if we could have another common bond; phone photography. 

For years now we’ve all had a camera at our fingertips; snapping at our convenience at family parties, landcapes, delicious plates of food and beautiful things.  But what happens to these images?  Do you print them off, do you delete them after a while or do you suddenly realise there’s thousands of captured moments on that little thing in your pocket?  If you took a photo with intention, wanting to frame a feeling or bottle a memory then why is it lost amongst hundreds only seen when scrolling, looking for something else? 

We have a photo wall in our kitchen, full of family and friends smiling faces and places we love.  I didn’t realise at the time how happy it makes us until I took it all down during lockdown when it seemed that life had stopped and we had taken so much for granted.  But it went back up and the children frequently stand on chairs and inspect the pictures, ‘remember the time we…’ ‘look that’s when you were a baby’ and ‘I wish we could do that again’.

The other morning, I scrolled through my photos printing off pictures of recipes that I had taken from books or magazines.  I noticed that aside from the pictures that should go on the photo wall there were images that would probably never go anywhere, they seemed random, why was I keeping them?  Hovering on the delete button I paused, I had, after all taken them for a reason, a flicker in time.  So I thought it might be cool to show them to you, my lovely reader, we can scrutinise them together and I wonder whether you have similar? This week is a sort of photographic exhibition and I encourage you to do the same, an interesting look into your own psyche! And I can finally delete these off my phone as they are now here in perpetuity.

FOOD AND DRINK

Not perfectly plated nor self explanatory.

Free range eggs about to be mixed. I love making pastry by hand, even though we have the equipment in the bakery I still usually stand by the window and take my time flicking butter through flour, a baker’s meditation.

Dock stalk. After reading Mo Wilde’s The Wilderness Cure I poked about in the garden looking for lesser known edibles and munched on a tender dock stalk, agter peeling away the outer layer it was rhubarby and juicy.

The Cresent Croissant. Created in Vienna this shaped buttery bread mirrors the crescent moon on the Turkish flag apparently to celebrate the defeat of the Ottoman Empire. Now most croissants in real bakeries are straight; the general rule being straight are made with butter and cresents contain margarine. These are plastic models brought to me by my daughter in the play shop part of a science museum.

Champagne flavoured Rock. I just thought this was the most kitsch thing and wondered about getting some for my girlfriends as christmas presents. A bizarre and ironic candy; classy yet tacky and very sticky!

Face on a pint. Being silly and drawing a face in the creamy head is so tempting, a bit of fun when someone’s not looking. Evokes feelings of being cosy in dark interiors of lively bars and late nights with friends laughing and being with those you love.

Keepers. I’m a sucker for good packaging and a classic label; iconic fonts and bold colours. Wasted in their thousands, shoved into your takeaway bags by the handful along with malt vinegar and plastic cutlery. I keep them in the car or the cupboard for SOS situations!

ICONIC

Excellent signage, patterns and famous faces.

A Tiled Floor. Having spent my formative years partying at the weekend at The Derry/ The Atlantic Bar, this floor is special to me. A place for live music, band nights and a fair amount of bad behaviour this amazing spot in Portrush town centre is destined for demolition. I felt compelled to capture the beautiful Victorian tiled floor whilst bleary eyed with emotion and beer! Threatening a small tattoo as a nod to the blissful youthful times had here.

High Brow Fail. I kept this photo of the kids and Van Gogh to remind me how quickly good times can go bad. On entering this amazing exhibition I was proud of how the children were interpreting the artwork, my little darlings were reading the panels and gazing in wonderment at the colours…until about 3 minutes later when they were rolling around the floor, shouting they were bored and jumping from seat to seat out of control. Smug to sheepish.

Pride of Place. Easkey has a special place in our hearts; a little village on the west coast in Co.Sligo. We try and visit if we’re nearby though it’s always a slight detour, with it for the delicious Pudding Row and gorgeous pottery from Rosie. There is a lovely sense of community spirit and I loved this handmade signage of businesses in the village.

UGLINESS AND BEAUTY

No explanation required.

Dog poo bag in the Ancient Oakwood

A Collection

A Sideways Hawthorn

Lichen on Basalt

Heavenly Sky