hyde family © early 1980s vogue photo (not that vogue…)

loss, family, friends, photo walks, cats and dogs

December 31, 2023

It seems odd to say 2023 was one of the better years for me recently, despite Mum passing on 1 March.

Realistically, I’d probably started mourning her loss in March 2018, when I believed that would be the last time I’d see her in person. It was a mixed blessing to have one more opportunity in October 2019. But I knew when I left Tasmania at the end of that visit that would be the last time.

By the time she passed, we hadn’t even been able to have Skype calls for about a year and a half. And our calls hadn’t involved actual conversation for a long time before that.

So, her passing was more of a continuation and perhaps the closing chapter of my mourning.

Don’t get me wrong: I still semi-regularly well up and have a good cry while thinking about her. But it’s not been as intense as it would have been without her prolonged descent into dementia and multiple false alarms to prepare me for the final eventuality.

her final destination [buttons beach, ulverstone, tasmania, australia, 2023]

We said our farewells, and Mum set off on her final journey on 18 June 2023, when Dad, Robert, Peter and I could finally be in one place.

An old friend, Dee, messaged me soon after to tell me the ocean currents may have taken her to New Zealand.

dad reviving his david bellamy impersonation [tasmanian arboretum, eugenana, tasmania, australia, 2023]

It was the first chance we had to be in one place as a family to say goodbye to Mum, but it was probably also the first time the four of us had been together since early 2007.

john hyde [sunnybank hills, brisbane, queensland, australia, 2023]

With family, loss and the passing of time on my mind, I predominantly spent my month in Australia catching up with family, especially those I hadn’t seen in far too long.

My uncle, John, is one member of my extended family I’ve managed to see on all of my visits since leaving Australia in January 2011. But I enjoyed spending another few days of quality time with him, talking about family and family history, debating politics and catching up with his partner, Verna. And I managed to set him up on WhatsApp so I can call him regularly at no cost.

with the lodwicks © 2023 rhys lodwick [booragoon, perth, western australia, australia, 2023]

My Mum’s side of the family has been harder to catch up with over the years, mainly due to geography. For most of my childhood and teens, they lived in Calgary. And when they returned to Australia, they settled in Perth.

I met Rhys (pictured at left, taking the group selfie) when I was about 11, but I didn’t meet my other cousin, his twin, David (centre back), until Rhys’ wedding about ten years later, in 1998.

I’m ashamed to say that was the last time I’d seen Rhys and my uncle, Graham, until this year. Although, I stayed with my aunt, Patricia, in 2002, when I returned to Australia after my first stint of living in the UK and caught up with David then. Christopher (back right) wasn’t yet born.

So, it was lovely to spend a couple of days getting to know Rhys better while he played tour guide, to spend a few days with his family, and to spend an evening with Mum’s family.

I would have liked to have spent more time with them, but I had so much to cram into just a month. Hopefully, I’ll be able to spend more time next time.

And I caught up with Rhys, his wife, Jenny, and their daughter, Georgia, for an evening when they were in London a few months later.

untitled #20 [sunnybank hills, brisbane, queensland, australia, 2023]

In addition to spending time with family, I was pleased to catch up with my first-ever best friend, Narelle, for the first time in around 39 years. And to spend time with Lisa and Sarah.

untitled #40 [west ulverstone beach, ulverstone, tasmania, australia, 2023]

It was a pleasure, as always, to spend time talking and dining with Victoria while I was in Tasmania, including a rain-sodden wander on West Ulverstone Beach.

untitled #89 [tasmanian arboretum, eugenana, tasmania, australia, 2023]

We wandered around the Tasmanian Arboretum with Cheryl after scattering Mum’s ashes; just what I needed.

I did spy a platypus and took some photos, but they may need quite a lot of enlargement to confirm that!

frilled neck lizard [mindeerup, perth, western australia, australia, 2023]

I took many photos of Perth in the glorious weather as Rhys played tour guide.

Here’s one of a frilled neck lizard sculpture in the Mindeerup section of south Perth, part of Karl Kep Ngoornd-iny (Fire and Water Dreaming) by Yondee Shane Hansen.

In addition to my family, who offered up beds and couches to me during my stay, I want to thank everyone who could make the time to catch up during my (relatively) short time in Melbourne.

It was lovely to catch up with Jess, Preethi and Feih for drinks one night. Ian, David, Pete and Corey the next night. Brunch with Richard and his daughter, Sienna, dinners with David and Anthony, and a pint and chips with Jason.

(I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone!)

anthony horan [springvale botanical cemetery, springvale, melbourne, victoria, australia, 2023]

Special thanks to Amy and Chris for shuttling me and Richard to Springvale Botanical Cemetery to visit Anthony Horan’s grave and to Richard for the engaging natter on the train (and apologies for getting us on the wrong train!)

sunshine on grief [brookwood cemetery, brookwood, surrey, england, 2023]

Usually, my visits to cemeteries are for purely photographic purposes. But this year, I found myself in cemeteries to visit friends.

That’s how I came to be in Brookwood Cemetery, the largest cemetery in the UK. It used to have its own dedicated railway, including first-class carriages for the dead, running direct from the London Necropolis Railway Station in Waterloo.

The same station still serves it. But now it’s just the living commuting by train from the main Waterloo Station.

(I knew about the cemetery and the railway well before my visit because of Catharine Arnold’s book, Necropolis: London and its Dead, which I read many years ago. I’ll return for a more leisurely photo walk in future).

I did, of course, also visit cemeteries for purely photographic purposes.

In chronological order, I wandered the following cemeteries:

untitled #48 [plaistow cemetery, bromley, london, england, 2023]

Plaistow Cemetery in Bromley (on my birthday)

untitled #180 [brockley and ladywell cemeteries, brockley, london, england, 2023]

Brockley Cemetery (part of Brockley and Ladywell Cemeteries)

untitled #277 [brockley and ladywell cemeteries, ladywell, london, england, 2023]

Ladywell Cemetery (part of Brockley and Ladywell Cemeteries)

untitled #63 [london road cemetery, bromley, london, england, 2023]

London Road Cemetery in Bromley

Bromley Hill Cemetery

untitled #66 [paines lane cemetery, pinner, london, england, 2023]

Paines Lane Cemetery in Pinner

untitled #199 [pinner new cemetery, pinner, london, england, 2023]

Pinner New Cemetery (probably the worst maintained cemetery I’ve come across, and I include those maintained within the concept of ‘managed neglect’ in that comparison)

untitled #116 [hither green cemetery, hither green, london, england, 2023]

And Hither Green Cemetery, which I’ll have to revisit in 2024, as I arrived about 15 minutes before they closed for the day.

All this talk of death and loss may have you concerned. Never fear: there’s life in the old girl yet.

untitled #115 [birmingham, west midlands, england, 2023]

I didn’t travel as far afield as I’d hoped this year, but I did spend a day wandering Birmingham, its canals, and marvelling at the city’s Spaghetti Junction with fellow photographer Phil Ivens one Sunday.

henley bridge [henley-on-thames, oxfordshire, england, 2023]

I spent a lovely weekend with my distant cousins in Uxbridge, including a day in Henley-on-Thames.

hambleden cinema [hambleden, buckinghamshire, england, 2023]

And Hambleden.

the ashley-joneses and bevans [uxbridge, london, england, 2023]

Once again, it was lovely to spend time with family members I don’t see often enough (though there’s less excuse with these guys as, apart from Malcolm, we live in the same city, albeit on almost opposite sides!)

untitled #104 [new river path, palmers green, london, england, 2023]

I topped and tailed the year by continuing my photo walks along the New River Path.

In February, Sarah joined me to walk from where we left off last time, in Bowes Park, to Palmers Green.

untitled #45 [new river path, palmers green, london, england, 2023]

And in November, Scott joined me for the next stretch from Palmers Green to Enfield.

untitled #35 [grove park nature reserve, grove park, london, england, 2023]

And, on Boxing Day, I took what I thought was a scenic shortcut through Grove Park Nature Reserve, aiming for Hither Green Cemetery, only to find the footbridge as part of the Railway Children Walk was closed for maintenance.

And now, the part of my annual wrap-up you’ve all been waiting for (drum roll).

Here’s the roll call of the new kittehs (and doggos!) I sat this year.

I sat 17 cats, 11 of which were new clients (though two were new kittehs for existing human clients).

I sat three doggos, all new clients and all lovely beasties. Unfortunately, Dougal (pictured above) has now crossed the Rainbow Bridge, passing around the day I left for Australia.

I sat ten fish, four of which were new clients. Six have now gone to fish heaven (only one on my watch, purloined from its pond by a cat or a fox).

Jilly arrived in Bounds Green as Lottie’s successor.

Oscar joined my three regulars in Bromley.

Frank, who loves to cuddle (which is a good thing, as he’s so smooshable!)

Pebbles, an old soul.

Treacle, who is as sweet as…

Milo loves a good game of tug-o-war.

Mango can be entertained on a shoestring (literally) and loves a lap.

I visited her four times over three days in the summer. She knew exactly when I was about to leave and when to curl up cutely on my lap.

Bobby with his “come hither and rub my belly” gaze.

Cino, Bobby’s less aloof brother.

These two were hilarious to listen to when they chatted while they played with their toys.

Bobby and Cino had some fishy friends (two of the three pictured).

George, a cheeky tabby who lives next door to my regulars.

And Lottie, George’s housemate.

I visited these two thrice daily one weekend while sitting my regulars.

And my newest and youngest clients, at 14 weeks, David.

And Stevie.

I slept in someone else’s bed for 160 nights this year (no, not like that).

Between pet-sitting, a weekend visit with my cousins, and my visit to Australia, I was away from home almost 44% of this year!

I loved it, but I will admit I missed my bed, iMac and my own room (though not the scaffolding surrounding our flat for about six months).

The coming year looks quite busy already, but it will be interesting to see whether it will be more or less busy than this year. I already have four new doggo and two new kitteh clients scheduled over the summer.

Before I wish you all a happy new year and the best of everything for 2024, I want to thank all my friends and family who have been there for me during 2023 when I really needed it (and, in many cases, every year before that).

I hope I have been and/or will be there for you when you need it.

Love to you all for 2024 xx

she ain’t heavy, she’s my mother

July 5, 2023

The one thing no one tells you is how much human ashes weigh.

The first night I was with Dad in Ulverstone, we were seated at the dining table after dinner. I don't remember if we were talking about Mum at the time or something completely unrelated, but seemingly out of the blue, Dad said something like, "I have something new to show you, but it's maybe not the right time."

I didn't know what he might mean, so I responded that now I was worried.

He said it was on the piano, it was Mum's ashes, and he wandered off to get them.

At the time, even if we'd been talking about Mum, it felt a little out of left field, and I'd not been thinking about such things, so it was a bit of a shock to my system.

He returned with a navy blue presentation box. Inside was a plastic container like those you'd use for protein powder. There's no better way to describe it.

There was also a plaque that might have been suitable to affix to a cremation plot in a cemetery, but it was light. And, for some reason, Hyde was engraved with a lowercase 'h'. (I can't help it, I always spot those details).

None of these things mattered because we knew we would scatter her ashes. So, the only thing that mattered was having her ashes.

Not the receptacle that contained them or the never-to-be-used plaque.

Dad handed me the box. The first thing that hit me was how heavy she was.

That immediately brought home how real this was.

The soul may weigh only 21 grams*, but the ashes of human remains are much heavier than I would ever have imagined.

The realisation made me quite emotional, and I admit, I was a little in shock. The wine we had with dinner and the ciders I'd had probably didn't help.

I sat at the table with Dad and Mum and let the emotion wash over me. The idea sink in. I handled the container, felt its weight in my hands and made some flippant joke that no one would ever have thought Mum would fit in a box that small.

Later in the week, before my brothers arrived, I made time to play the piano for Mum one last time.

It was terrible. I hadn't played since October 2019, and though I thought I played surprisingly well then after an excessively long break, I was seriously struggling to identify the right notes this time. What had previously come back to me, like riding a bike, felt almost alien.

I think that was the first time I appreciated how much I had previously learned. Like learning a foreign language and then realising how hard it must have been to pick up when you lose the words through lack of practice.

I would go through moments when everything flowed through my fingers, and then a bar or two would completely throw me off. I swore. A lot.

But I wanted to play to Mum that last time because she played a large part in my learning piano in the first place and would often ask me to play while she prepared dinner or did some other chore around the house all through my time growing up and when I lived with my parents on and off as an adult. She didn't mind what I played. She just loved to listen to me play.

Before I played to her, my curiosity was too much. So, while alone, I took Dad's kitchen scale to the dining table. I placed Mum's ashes on it and took this photo. I presumed the container probably weighed less than a kilogram, so her ashes weighed about 2kg.

I contemplated keeping some of her ashes. I thought about bringing them back to London with me.

Some companies claim to be able to make diamonds from human ashes and/or hair. That appealed to me as diamonds are my birthstone.

But in the end, the sceptic in me researched such claims and couldn't verify them, and the process would have been hugely expensive, so I decided I would rather all of her be scattered together.

^{*The theory that the human soul weighs 21 grams has been rejected.}

pietà

March 13, 2022

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 8 March 2022].}

keeping my hand above water

March 1, 2022

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 22 February 2022].}

I looked online, but I can't find which artist created this sculpture I photographed at the Memorial Museum Passchendaele 1917 in Zonnebeke in 2014.

I will look again, but if you know/can point me in the right direction, I'll be happy to credit them.

081 plug

April 22, 2021

Day eighty-one of The 100 Day Project for 2021.

I had many words in my head toward the end of the day yesterday when thinking about drawing this and sharing it with you. And then later when actually sketching.

I knew I was going to tell you that this was the last plug sketch, I promise! (It is).

And after two power outages yesterday - the first affecting about 580 properties served by our local substation, the second affecting one in three properties served by it - it felt appropriate to draw an unplugged plug again.

I sketched yesterday's plug by a mixture of candlelight, mobile phone torchlight, and desk-lamp light as they brought our power back up.

Angling my phone in just such a way that the light from the torch on my phone hit the page so I could see the 4H pencil lines I was making, but also refer to my source image on my phone at the same time.

I can't say the sketch would have been better if produced in daylight or under a reliable desk-lamp light. But maybe it's not terrible, considering the circumstances.

As I regularly do, I sketched it with a 4H pencil, then drew over the lines with an HB pencil.

After discussions about the state of the world with close friends via chat, I was preparing to edit and share yesterday's sketch when I received an unscheduled call from Mum's nursing home. The first in almost three months.

And it completely disarmed me. Not in a good way.

I'll be the first to admit I generally get the 'sanitised' version of my mum's dementia. A lot of effort goes into finding the right moment. When Mum is friendly; at least a little lucid; ideally knows who I am; and open to engaging with a device she doesn't understand.

So today's call was really hard, though I appreciate Kim attempting it. Her heart was in the right place. I can't fault her for that.

But Mum looked tired. She looked older than I've ever seen her look.

She spoke like someone afraid of silence.

What she spoke of - as disjointed as it was - obviously affected her emotionally. Where, usually, I would smile at her encouragingly and nod politely when her sentences drifted off into nonsense, today smiling and nodding felt wrong. Even if I didn't know what she was talking about, it obviously upset her.

About the only piece of discernible discourse happened because Kim referred to my mother, talking to me. But Mum misunderstood it as a reference to her own mother. And she knew she was long gone, even if she didn't know who I was.

Clementine Ford posted recently about what would have been her late mother's 72nd birthday. My mum is 75.

I read her post and thought to myself, "When Mum finally passes, it will be easier than that".

Even before the onset of her dementia, we often found ourselves at an impasse.

While I would have considered her my best friend when I was in my late teens and early 20s, it had been years since we'd seen eye to eye on most things.

Especially in the ten years before her dementia became evident, there was a window where we were both at the right level of tipsy that we could reconnect. There was a point where we recaptured that mutual admiration and affection, usually poring over her family photos after dinner.

But much of the rest of the time, our vastly different personalities clashed.

I've rarely been one to withhold my opinions. But Mum always held to the saying that you don't discuss politics or religion in polite company. I could have (mostly) lively, open debates with my Dad and Uncle about contentious subjects without it (always) turning sour. Mum only saw disagreement and conflict, not a healthy exchange of ideas, even if she wasn't in the conversation.

Our Skype call this morning brought it home to me that my perception of it being somehow easier to let her go when the time comes because of all of the above is just false. It's still going to hurt.

It hurts now, and I miss her already.

075 snail

April 16, 2021

Day seventy-five of The 100 Day Project for 2021.

So, yesterday I made a new friend, and I found out I lost an old friend.

However, those things don't equate.

One was a cute little baby snail (pictured and sketched) the other was a school friend from my latter years of high school.

My school friend and I weren't super close. We'd become friends on Facebook many years ago after losing touch when high school ended in 1994 but we only actually DM'd once.

He messaged me in November 2019. It was not long after I'd returned to London, while I was still hobbling about after a car accident in Tasmania.

I can't recall if I'd been open online about how I was struggling with the perfect shitstorm life was at that point. But somewhere in there, he must have picked up on it.

He messaged me privately with a really supportive message, sharing his own similar but different experience, which, to be frank, made my experience pale in comparison.

I wasn't in the best place when I received it. I read it and keenly appreciated it. But I wanted to properly reply. Not just a quickfire response. So it took me a month to do so.

Unfortunately, that was the only exchange we had in many years. Because Nigel was one of the good guys.

Amongst other things, he was one of my fellow students who made me feel welcome when I was, once again, 'the new kid'. Even though I was a seasoned professional by that point. This being my fifth new school when many only have to deal with two, and their 'new kid' experiences are collective ones when they happen.

From what I know, I completely understand why, but it's still heartbreaking. I wish I'd known what was going on. I could have returned the favour in sending a message or ten of hope.

I know it probably wouldn't have changed anything because those who did know - I'm sure - did all they could to support him. But I would have been more than happy to return the favour tenfold that he did me with that one message when life just felt overwhelming.

For completeness, though it feels weird writing this after what I've shared above, yesterday's sketch was initially drawn with a 4H pencil. Then variously overdrawn with a 2B, an HB, H and the 4H pencil more heavily.

If you need to hear this right now: you are loved.