When I take photos my body is tense in a way that makes me feel centred. Breathing stops on the in-breath. There’s a moment of stillness before the shutter is depressed. I use a camera with a viewfinder, and I’ve just realised that it’s my left eye that does the work.
During the early days of digital photography, I watched a couple at Malaga airport reviewing their holiday photos… they hadn’t even left Spain. Instant nostalgia! Almost made me hanker for the days when you had to wait for the chemist to give you your packet of snaps. ‘You’ll have to come back on Monday.’
Seven nursery-age children dashed about the house. I had offered to look after my daughter’s friends so their parents could spend the afternoon doing Christmas shopping. What could go wrong? Apart from expected mayhem. To calm things down, Carol, my daughter, suggested they form a circle. I watched as they sat, legs crossed, eager for the next thing to happen, a story perhaps? ‘So,’ began Carol, ‘does anyone believe in Father Christmas? Put up your hand if you do.’ Harry, the youngest, raised his arm then let it fall.
This actually happened. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
The Christmas iconography was photographed at the local launderette.