After the highs of the three athletics golds in the Olympic stadium last night, it was a much calmer world this morning. Parking on the cliff tops I could see that the water was even calmer and hazier than it had been yesterday, but there was no blue in the sky to brighten it.
I began at the water’s edge continuing my obsession with the small rowing boats moored within the lagoon. I shot dozens of images, changing the exposure to give the opportunity to process some as HDR pictures, and taking advantage of passing birds that might have given the image more interest. The water is calm enough for good reflections, but with enough movement to scatter that reflection into a longer pattern like a shadow at sunrise.
Eventually I turned my attention to the man and his dog, and was surprised to find that he was a former colleague with whom I worked over twenty years ago. We were part of a group who took the mickey out of each other through insults, practical jokes, and ridicule. I remember adopting an exaggerated voice, not unlike Monty Python’s TF Gumby when trying to impersonate him and quoting his reaction to any food that was remotely exotic. “I’m not eating that, it’s slop!” It was probably nothing like him.
Declining my request for a photograph on the grounds that he was old, decrepit and lived in, he offered his dog as a substitute, but wet labradoodles aren’t my stock in trade, so we continued talking. His Spanish holiday was too hot for his pale skinned family. A woman had warned him to keep his dog out of the water because of sharks (a seven-foot porbeagle was landed up the coast and sold out in hours at Latimer’s Fish Deli behind us). His 11-year-old daughter had attitude.
As I bade him farewell he spotted a blonde woman heading onto the beach. “I’d much rather photograph her than someone like me” he said. And so I did.