Ashton Park pond, West Kirby The photo above was taken this week at the edge of the pond in Ashton Park.  I passed an elderly man who was holding a chunky camera with a foot-long lens.  Mine sits in my pocket, a modest Kodak which weighs next to nothing.  My old Pentax SLR was much more flexible from a creative view-point, and the lenses were excellent.  Meanwhile, I'm happy tinkering with this little digi, which is ok for static shots.  For snapping anything moving it's hopeless as the shutter works more slowly than the button - so you have to press the button and attempt to move the camera in time with whatever you're trying to photograph.  Mostly the resulting image is blurred or partially missing.  For example, last winter I tried to photograph our dogs playing in the snow.  They were having a fine old time, chasing each other around.  Unfortunately, due to the shutter/button delay, mostly all I caught was images of snow and various dogs' blurry backsides as

The Faerie Pond on Caldy Hill In a recent blog post, Jennifer Rainey  included some photos of the Hocking Hills region in southeast Ohio, where she sets some of her fiction.  As most readers of my blog will already know, my fiction tends to be set locally to me, and one of the locations I use is Caldy Hill.  Why?  Well, it's a beautiful place, it's only a short walk from my home, it's peaceful and ancient, and the air is full of birdsong and the fragrances of heather and broom carried on salty breezes coming off the Dee estuary.  Jays, crows, wood pigeons, turtle doves, goldfinches, bullfinches and owls nest there.  There are rabbits, bats, foxes, lizards, adders and badgers.  There are benches perfect for meditating while gazing along the River Dee, over to Flintshire or out to sea. In my fiction, Caldy Hill is home to the notorious Caldy fae.  If you're expecting sugary-cute, tutu-wearing, small faeries probably clutching a sparkly wand, and who might offer you thr

Don't look, it's a dream! What's this white stuff? How to get dry - puppy style! Emily with her late Uncle Mutley Ygraine, circa 2007. Tidying up old files on my computer, I came across these old photos of some of my pets.  Enjoy!   

A rugged path leads to the summit of Caldy Hill. This morning promised a glorious spring day, and so I went for a walk over Caldy Hill.  My two dogs kept me company, of course, as the likelihood of any human member of this household being able to head out for a walk without taking Emily and Ygraine along too is pretty slim.  Not unless you'd want to endure hours of grumpy yapping and sad-eyed sulking, that is.  The light wasn't too good for photography, really - Wales, on the opposite bank of the River Dee,  was totally obscured by haze - but the golden-yellow gorse is looking too lovely for me not to attempt a few shots.  It's a pity readers of this blog can't share the gorse's perfume...  Think of warm honey, with a dash of sharp lemon and you'll have a reasonable idea of the fragrance hanging on every slight breeze.   Most of the trees here are deciduous and it's still too early in the season for leaves, but every branch is covered in buds.  Daffodil

Photos from Parallel Dimensions 2011, which was the third annual F/H/SF event where authors share some of their stories with an audience.  This year's PD took place in a side room in West Kirby Library, Wirral. Adele Cosgrove-Bray Adele Cosgrove-Bray - and orb (or dust speck, take your choice!) Jon Mayhew  Mjke Wood  Peter Caton Tim Hulme     

The mid-afternoon sun was streaming through newly-revealed branches, keeping the top layer of fallen leaves crisp.  These mounds of leaves are apparently enthralling, at least to my dogs who seem compelled to inspect in detail each undulating heap.   Puddles command similar attention, which means that a walk which should take under an hour actually took closer to one and a half.  But it was a lovely autumn day; there was no reason to rush. The bulrushes have shed their fluffy wigs now.  Ygraine once savaged some poor bloke's prize pampas after it made the mistake of waving in a breeze.  And as much as she loves a good swim, trying to fish a dog out of a deep pond whose banks are slathered with greasy black mud is not my idea of a fun diversion during an otherwise pleasant stroll.  Therefore Ygraine has to be restrained around anything tall and wobbly like bulrushes. As the late afternoon sun cast amber-gold over the tree tops, we headed into the little woodland then out amo

Hazel and Adele, a long time ago... There are some photos which simply make you smile.  They might not be the most professionally done or the most artistic, but they're precious in their own way.  Like this one, above, which shows my sister and I paddling somewhere near Southampton.  I totally forget the name of the place; it had three shallow pools in a row, and I recall feeling incredibly adventurous for walking through each of them all by myself.  We visited this place more than once during various visits to my Aunt Kathleen and Uncle George's home.  My four cousins were probably paddling not too far away, just out of camera shot.  My first typewriter, a Smith Corona, which was a Xmas present shared with my sister.  I used to type poetry on this before mailing it off to various magazines.  Some of it got published, too...  This machine worked well for many years until the carriage developed an annoying habit of jumping spaces or of not moving at all.  This didn't exac

Can you spot my DNA archive amongst these photos?  (Though I do have more than one archive, stored in various places.) See the gallery: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-14509425 The photographer's website:  http://www.murrayballard.com/   

In the eleven years we've lived here, we've gone through four lawn mowers.  Whatever happened to electrical goods whose life extended long after the manufacterers' guarantees expired?  These-days products seem to be made as cheaply as possible in the full knowledge that items will develop faults sooner rather than later.  Perhaps it's a deliberate method of keeping the economy turning over, in that goods are made to break down so people will keep buying more of the same.  Repairs cost nearly as much as a new product, assuming spare parts are even available.  This is one contributing factor to the planet's ever-growing rubbish tips. It's also rather annoying.  Our high-pressure waterjet patio cleaner, for example, lasted one season before the plastic handle split, meaning all pressure was lost and water was pouring over the electric wiring.  Could a new handle be bought?  Of course not.  Our fairly new bread-making machine went on fire.  Our deep-fat fryer, o

Event poster.   Adele Cosgrove-Bray   Tim Hulme   Peter Caton   Dave   Peter   Audience participation from Helen Brickwood   Audience participation from Frank Hogan   Note:  The lovely photography exhibition which served as our backdrop is by pupils from West Kirby Residential School.