untitled #54

May 22, 2021

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 15 May 2021].}

'Early birds' often swear by the hours of the morning before everyone else wakes as their most productive. Or maybe their self-improvement hours. Hours when they go for a run or participate in other forms of exercise. Or get in some quiet reading or meditation before the hustle and bustle of the day begins.

There's a false belief that night owls are somehow inferior. That we "waste" our day in bed.

Instead, many of us enjoy those same quiet, calm hours of productivity. We just prefer to experience them between 23:00 and 05:00, and they probably don't include physical exercise.

Yesterday I allowed myself a lie-in because I'd participated in two intensive two-day courses from Monday to Thursday and needed some recovery time.

Despite going to bed after 02:00, and initially waking before 09:00, I possibly allowed myself to linger longer in bed, dozing on and off, because of the vivid, emotional dreams I'd had before waking.

I was exploring a seaside town I've never been to. Wandering backstreets and footpaths and pubs and - as often happens for me in dreams - grappling with paths both inside and out that suddenly require me to wrestle with my fears of heights and falling.

Later, in one of the dreams, I found myself, barely clothed, in a customs office in Australia with Simon. I was begging for permission to enter the country despite all my identification and belongings having been stolen. I remember thinking of myself as an illegal alien.

In the afternoon, back in reality, I washed my mammoth pile of dishes. I won't tell you how long they'd been accumulating. You will judge me. However, they were all thoroughly rinsed, so there was nothing offensive about them beyond the quantity. While I washed them, I listened to a podcast about forensic science and then another about Einstein's theory of general relativity.

After a call with Simon, a shower, a supermarket run and dinner, I felt unsettled.

Nevertheless, at about 23:30, I settled in to edit photos for my long-overdue next instalment of my Love Letters to London series.

For the first time in what feels like months and probably is, I managed to edit photos without distraction for about 2.5 hours. It was bliss.

This photograph was taken at the location of some photos that may make it into my next 'Love Letter'. It fit my mood in these quiet hours, so I edited it to share with you this morning.

I paused at 02:00 mainly because I found myself thinking of a friend in Victoria who I knew was going under the knife this month. I wanted to check in on him while he was on my mind. In the calm, mellow hours of the morning, I got a positive update on his recovery, and we had a brief catch-up via Facebook Messenger.

While I was editing, I had the chance to catch up on new releases from St. Vincent, Juliana Hatfield, Paul Weller, and now Nicholas Britell. As well as singles from other artists.

The Underground Railroad soundtrack is particularly perfect for the frame of mind I'm currently in and seems a positive way to gradually wind myself down before heading to bed.

Many night owls don't sleep our lives away. We sleep about the same number - often less! - than early birds.

We just find our productive hours in a different part of the morning. Or in the afternoon or evening.

Are you an early bird or a night owl? When do you find are the most productive hours of your day?

Are you a vivid dreamer? Do you believe you don't dream? Or do you know you dream but never remember them upon waking?

Do you love hearing about others' dreams and sharing yours, or do you find it tedious to hear about others' dreams?

untitled #781 [the stumpery, golders hill park, golders green, london, england, united kingdom, 2020]

love letters to london: the wild life

March 7, 2021

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 28 February 2021].}

So, here's my first proper love letter to London!

Firstly, I need to clarify that the aspects I'll highlight in these love letters are not necessarily exclusive to London or even to the UK.

I recognise the global nature of so much in our world means very little of what we enjoy about a place is native to that place or is exclusive in any way.

This series will highlight things I've either discovered in London, appreciated most from my time here, or that I feel London does well.

For example, I know Australia does wildlife like no other continent. It might not have the most extensive collection of native animals (or maybe it does. I haven't checked the stats on that!) But it has some of the most distinctive and recognisable ones.

But there are critters here you don't see roaming in the wild in Australia. And so, for me, London is the place I've had the opportunity to discover these fellas and observe them in their day-to-day activities. Many, literally, in my own backyard.

untitled #69 [new barnet, london, england, united kingdom, 2018]

Despite living in a built-up suburban area of north London, I get to see eastern grey squirrels chasing each other in my backyard almost every day.

I get to see red foxes lurking about under the sensor light in the wee hours, leaving their tracks in the snow.

I get to check out tits perched on the branches outside my bedroom. Great tits, even.

I hear the hopeless karaoke of Eurasian magpies (beautiful birds but they cannae hold a tune!) and the lovely song of the blackbird, right from my cosy bed.

untitled #422 [city of london cemetery and crematorium, manor park, london, england, united kingdom, 2011]

I'm not going to lie: this could have been devoted to squirrels. And I'm not discounting the possibility that I will, at some point, share a post that is purely squirrel, squirrel, squirrel.

I mean, they love nuts, toast and hanging around in cemeteries. We haven't discussed their opinion of cheese and cider. But I feel sure we see eye-to-eye on most things, aside from spending time at great heights and climbing trees.

I know the eastern grey is seen as an invasive species and has driven out a large proportion of the native red squirrel population. But they are super-cute little guys.

However, I thought I should also highlight some other critters I find engaging.

Unfortunately, I see foxes a lot but never manage to capture them well for various reasons. Many times because I'm indoors looking out from my bedroom or kitchen, other times because it's twilight or night-time and I'm only equipped with the camera on my phone. A neighbour of mine takes beautiful photos of them. Apparently, they hang out in his allotment, so I want to find out if I can drop in some time to meet them.

untitled #45 [regent’s canal, camden town, london, england, united kingdom, 2018]

It feels like mute swans are everywhere in central London parks and canals. I'm not sure that's true, but I see them a lot, and they are one of the more difficult birds to capture well in photographs. Their bright white feathers often end up blown out in photos, especially where they're submerged and surrounded by dark, murky water.

untitled #92 [regent’s canal, the regent’s park, london, england, united kingdom, 2018]

They definitely seem less daunted by humans than other birds may be, though, not necessarily 'tame'. Likely because "they are protected under the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981, and killing or even injuring one carries a £5,000 fine or six months in jail. Stealing a swan egg is considered an equal offence and carries the same maximum penalty".

Apparently, the 'punishable by death' law was never repealed either. Not that I have any intention to do these graceful fellows any harm, let alone consume them. But worth knowing.

untitled #123 [the regent’s park, london, england, united kingdom, 2018]

An introduced species like myself, the Canada Goose seems to be as common as muck around London.

he don’t give a coot [the regent’s park, london, england, united kingdom, 2018]

They are rather pleasing to look at, and they don't give a coot about other birds.

untitled #5 [regent’s canal, camden town, london, england, 2018]

Speaking of coots, apparently, they're also commonly found in Australia, but I only noticed these masked birdies once I moved to London.

untitled #126 [the regent’s park, london, england, united kingdom, 2018]

Back to some native birdlife, the grey heron is pretty eye-catching. Its yellow eyes, especially.

lifeguard [the regent’s park, london, england, united kingdom, 2018]

They also appear to be self-appointed lifeguards. Keeping an eye on the safety of other birds and animals on lakes in London's parks.

This post only just scratches the surface of the animalia that has caught my eye here in London. I'm regularly discovering birds, animals and insects that are new to me. Whether out and about in parks around London or just in my own yard. And photographing them where I can, of course!

untitled #17 [tower bridge, city of london, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]

love letters to london: love at first sight

February 5, 2021

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 29 January 2021].}

“London is a bad habit one hates to lose.”
An anonymous saying, as quoted by William Sansom in Blue Skies, Brown Studies (1961)

I first visited London as 1991 became 1992. My family took a "'round the world" trip through Europe, the UK and the US, with time spent in London and towns in Wales during the UK leg.

untitled #14 [houses of parliament, westminster, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]

As a child and teenager growing up in Australia in the late 70s to the early 90s, my humour and cultural tastes were heavily shaped by British television, especially British comedy. From the various series created by The Two Ronnies to The Young Ones. From The Goodies to Yes Minister and Rumpole of the Bailey. Monty Python, Blackadder, Absolutely Fabulous, Robin's Nest and Are You Being Served? I could go on, but I won't. I'm sure you get the picture.

untitled #20 [albert memorial, kensington gardens, kensington, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]

But my music and some of my television tastes were more focussed on America. At the time, I was a subscriber to Bop and The Big Bopper: magazines focussed on teen stars of US television and film, many of whom were named Corey. (Though I'm sure that had nothing to do with my first serious boyfriend being called Corey...) I was 13, going on 14. You have to forgive me the foibles of youth.

I'd been a fan of Bon Jovi, Poison and other American hair bands along with the 'teen dreams' of New Kids on the Block for a long time. Around the time of our trip, with the influence from my older brother, Rob, I'd started to get into the Violent Femmes, but more importantly, UK bands like The Cure and The Jesus and Mary Chain.

I had inspiring experiences in the US and in Europe while on our family trip. New Orleans, San Francisco and Los Angeles stand out in the US. And pretty much everything in Europe we saw was inspiring. But I was surprised that I found myself turning away from a (by then) more US-centric focus to a UK-centric one by the time I returned to Australia.

the old curiosity shop [holborn, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]

Over the following years, my music tastes continued to span the UK/US borders. But I found myself more and more drawn toward the UK with the advent of Britpop.

By the time I finished my Diploma of Illustrative Photography in 1997, I knew I wanted to live in the UK for a time and have the opportunity to travel within Europe. What can I say? I guess I'm a product of my parents with their itchy feet for travel and their own overseas lives in their younger days.

By 1998 I had realised the benefits of my family history. I had started saving to move to the UK in 1999. My Grandpa on my Dad's side was born in Stoke Newington in London, so I could live in the UK on an Ancestry visa with fewer restrictions than many of my friends.

horse guard [10 downing street, whitehall, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]

About that time, I ended up becoming entwined in a relationship. Thankfully, my then-partner was a fellow Anglophile (though I'm not sure I'd describe myself that way now). And he was also eligible for an Ancestry visa through his grandmother born in Wolverhampton. Consequently, we bought one-way tickets to London in May 1999 and arrived on 1 December the same year.

We were not at all unique in our intentions in those days. Australians in their early 20s were flocking to the UK in droves in the late 90s. While the 'working holiday visa' was reasonably restrictive, it served its purpose for adventurous Aussies (and Kiwis and South Africans) that longed to experience the other hemisphere up close.

elizabeth tower [houses of parliament, westminster, london, england, united kingdom, 1992]

For (what we originally believed to be) financial reasons, we initially settled outside London, in Bracknell. We then 'graduated' to Reading, where we met many friends I still hold dear now. Eventually, with the impetus of one of my then partner's friends and myself, we moved to London.

When we were eventually looking to move to London, those I worked with suggested we move to suburbs full to bursting with other Australians. Areas like Earl's Court. I couldn't think of anything worse. Though I continued to live with fellow Aussies (through my relationship and friendships), I didn't come to another country to spend all my time with my fellow countrymen! What was the point of coming all this way, if not to meet and mingle with locals?!

untitled #48 [ferndale road, clapham north, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]

Despite my concerns, we did end up in an area that was apparently heavily populated by Aussies. We lived near Clapham North Station, on a road that ran between Clapham High Street and Brixton Hill. I didn't realise at that time, but the area was apparently full of Aussies. Maybe it was camouflaged by the pizza place across the road that we sunk our (small) fortune into being run by a lovely gay French couple. Or maybe it was hidden by the friendly Urdu-speaking family running the off-license we lived above. I don't know. But it never ever felt like an Aussie enclave.

While I loved so much of my time in London during that period, I worked long hours in an office in Canal Reach, near Camden Town. Initially clearing a backlog of invoices, and then eventually, with my manager's permission, scanning my own photos and uploading them to my fledgeling website outside of hours. At that point, we didn't have a computer or the internet at home.

untitled #46 [clapham north, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]

When I was at home in the evenings and on the weekends, my time was mostly spent in relaxation. At home, in pubs or clubs, attending raves or travelling. Enjoying the company of my friends and housemates and the interiors of local boozers. And trying (unsuccessfully) to pretend the Champions League and EUFA Cup wasn't a thing.

near by lie the remains [bunhill fields, st luke’s, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]

I took surprisingly few photos of London during my time living here in 2001-2002. Most photos were taken in Bunhill Fields Cemetery, or in and from our flat in Clapham North. The majority were taken during travels with my parents during their 2001 visit. And during trips to Europe with David and our friends.

sweets & tobacco [clapham north, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]

But I developed a love for the city that didn't die when I decided I was ready to go "home". I remember looking at flight prices in November 2001 for a trip home for my birthday in April 2002 and suddenly, out of curiosity, looking at one-way flight prices. That night I went home and asked David if he was ready to go "home". He said he was and we booked our flights without telling our employers.

What I didn't know then was that about three months after my return to Australia, I would realise I had just needed a break. That a month away with family and friends in Australia, and maybe reconsidering my relationship, and finding a new job on my return, was what I really needed.

Within those three months, I knew Melbourne wasn't home. I should have stayed in London. But it took me about nine years to get back here.

john bunyan’s grave [bunhill fields, st luke’s, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]

I've been back in London for over ten years now, and I don't see myself leaving anytime soon. I've visited Australia twice in the past three years and both times been reminded that I love the people - my friends, my family - and aspects of the country. But it's not my home anymore.

London is my home.

untitled #35 [bunhill fields, st luke’s, london, england, united kingdom, 2001]

From foreign correspondent, a piece I wrote while living in Melbourne in 2006:

some days my heart is in london though, or somewhere not here.

i dream of returning to londinium. two year and some months spent in the kingdom; less than half of that lived in the grand city, but daily commute from reading to camden for months before i moved. its grey, wintry, polluted streets are like a lover you know is no good for you, but you want to be held by nevertheless. it's a city to love/hate and not be able to differentiate the taste of either. moreso, i have unfinished business with her; a wish to return on my own terms with a confidence i had not before.

promise made to self that my return would be on the understanding of permanence, not fleeting. and for now, that is a commitment i am unable and unready to make. for now i love being in my rainy city, and the freedoms that affords me, that the lady would deny: such as a dwelling larger than a box of cardboard, with no need of company.

i visited blake; or rather the stone that marks an empty grave. i found him at the tate and felt myself overwhelmed by such a fantastic volume of work. dante's inferno in illustration, amongst other works.

kinfolk bred me with feet hungry for the touch of new lands. eyes wide at the unknown, thirsting for new targets for my memory-catcher.

for now i enjoy being in the present, potentially visiting the isle of the dead in summer and satisfying my taste for one destination...

  
    P.S. I apologise for the quality of the photos in this post. I don't currently have a scanner, and I don't have a proper set-up for rephotographing prints. Previously scanned versions I have are too small to share here. Over the past 6-12 months, I've been reminded that purchasing a scanner should be one of my Patreon goals. So I can share more of my older work with you and also for creating digital collages.

P.P.S. Some images in this post have been published before on previous iterations of my website. But many of them haven't been seen except in photo albums and piles of photographs by close friends many years ago.

untitled #1 [city of london, london, england, united kingdom, 2014]

love letters to london

January 18, 2021

Today I celebrated my tenth Londonversary!

And I've decided to commemorate my ten (consecutive) years of living in London by sharing a series of 'Love letters to London' with you during 2021.

The series will cover a selection of things I love about London. Each post will focus on a different aspect and will, of course, feature previously unedited and unpublished photographs to illustrate it.

For now, I'm thinking twelve instalments - one a month - but let's see how we go. There might be a monthly broad-themed post with a smattering of bonus posts throughout the year focussing on a particular place, for example.

Whatever the case, I'll be sharing them to my Patreon first, early access for patrons. I'll share them here and elsewhere around the web about a week later when the post becomes public on Patreon.

I'm hoping to share the first one with my patrons later this week, so now's a good time to become a patron!

star-graving

December 25, 2020

^{[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 24 December 2020].}

This is the final season’s grievings image I’ll be sharing to my blog in 2020.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this festive mini-series.

decorating the tree

December 25, 2020

^{[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 24 December 2020].}

deck the halls

December 25, 2020

^{[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 24 December 2020].}

untitled #147

December 23, 2020

^{[I originally posted this image as early access for my Patreon patrons on 22 December 2020].}

now bring us some figgy pudding

December 22, 2020

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 21 December 2020].}

There's a whole post to come about my first visit to Kensal Green Cemetery; one of the 'magnificent seven' London cemeteries.

But, between now and Christmas Day, I'll be sharing a few more season's grievings images I took during my visit, including this one.

Images from this mini-series had previously been shared early access for my Patreon patrons two days before making them public to the rest of the world.

But I have a few I want to share so they'll become public closer to 24 hours after original posting there in the lead-up to Christmas.

After Christmas, new images from the series will be available early access to my patrons a week before the rest of the world.

Become a patron.

lean into it

December 19, 2020

Are you looking to treat yourself as a reward for making it through 2020?

To bring some art and colour to your new year?

Now's a good time to become a patron then!

See the best of my new and newly-edited work up to a week before the rest of the world.

Enjoy new photos from my season's grievings mini-series two days early (there's some more to come!)

Read new instalments of my postcards from another's life series a week before I share them here and on my blog.

Catch up on all my posts from the past year and a half, including exclusive patron-only posts.

If you become a patron before the end of 2020, there's also the opportunity to influence what comes in 2021! You can let me know your expectations, what you're enjoying, what you want to see over the next year, and feedback on rewards through a few quick patron-only polls.

Are you worried about the 18+ warning when visiting my profile? Don't be. My Patreon is not an OnlyFans profile (I know, you're disappointed ;) )

On occasion, my artwork might be NSFW or include nudity, so I've flagged my profile as containing adult content to abide by Patreon's TOS.

At least for now, I'm keeping images containing nudity to patron-only at 'the perfect 10' tier and above. That allows those who want to follow my profile or only want early access to new work to avoid content they may not be comfortable viewing.

Not sure if you want to become a patron yet? You can sign up to Patreon and follow me to see new work as it becomes public.

The Patreon mobile app is a quick and easy way to see new work from me and other creators you might choose to follow, whether you're a patron or not.

So what are you waiting for? Become a patron.

underpass overpass

September 28, 2020

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 21 September 2020].}

This is another photograph I submitted to issue #149 of Shots Magazine.

Extras role in the background for the Albert Road gasworks.

untitled #47

September 27, 2020

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 20 September 2020].}

I took this on a photo walk with my friend and fellow photographer, Scott, on my birthday in 2018.

It was taken in Bloomberg Arcade, a spot which is very close to two of my last workplaces but that I rarely passed through. I think this was only the second or third time I'd been there.

This was one of two photographs of Bloomberg London that I submitted to Issue #149 of Shots Magazine.

untitled #98

September 22, 2020

^{[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 15 September 2020].}

This is another photograph I submitted to issue #149 of Shots Magazine.

The Albert Road gasworks in New Barnet looming in silhouette over neighbouring houses during the blue hour in winter 2018.

into the blue

April 10, 2018

They walked together in the cold dusk air in silence. Holding hands, gazing up at the clouds moving across the sky. The clouds transforming, breaking apart and reforming, moulded by the wind before their eyes. The blue hour came and went as they walked along the beach; a layer of sand clinging to their damp feet, the excess falling from their toes as they walked. The clouds, at first plump and white before sunset, became thin and wispy and moved at the whim of the salty night air. As the sky darkened and the sun disappeared below the horizon the clouds became less and less distinct from the sky. But as the moon rose in the sky and the clouds moved between them and it, the moon’s glow picked out the frayed edges of the clouds. They watched as the shapes of the clouds morphed, reminding each of them of one thing then another.

As they moved through the club, the music so loud they felt it in their bellies, the lights moved through their cycle of colours. Pink, red and yellow, then green, violet and blue. The strobe pulsed with the bass. Lighting up the dancefloor like a camera flash; capturing still moments while dancers moved in time with the music. She led him by the hand as they walked through the crowded club. They made a bee-line toward the dancefloor sticky with spilt drinks and humid from the sweat of so many bodies in such a small space. The smoke machine by the DJ's booth belched out coconut-scented smoke, masking the odour of so many sweaty bodies and the scent of sex. They danced for a while; favourite songs pouring out of the speakers. Their bodies in rhythm with each other from so many nights spent together on dancefloors around town. When they'd had enough they collapsed into each other on a stained and worn velour couch that's original colour was now hard to discern even when the house lights went up at 5 am. They sank blissfully into the couch and each other's arms.

They sat on the sand, the headlights from his car providing light for them to see each other by. Rugged up in coats and blankets, mittens and beanies, they curled up close to draw heat from each other. They couldn't light a fire on the beach, so they shivered in the spotlight of the low beams, watching the fog drift in from the sea and their warm breath billow against the cold night air. They giggled together as they attempted to blow smoke rings into the sky. The car radio, picking up the only station nearby, played a mixture of golden oldies, and love songs and dedications. They pressed their faces, blushed pink from the cold, together in an attempt to bring feeling back to flesh. Their warm breath mingled and rose into the cold night air as though from one person. They lay back to stare up at the cloudless sky and the stars overhead as the classic hits continued to pour from the tinny speakers in the car’s dashboard.

Their clothes were strewn behind them, discarded on the sand like breadcrumbs in fairytales, as they ran through the rain toward the waves. The beach was deserted this time of night, especially in this inclement weather. There was no one around to see their antics or their naked bodies as they ran into the water. The water still warm from the heat of the sun earlier in the day, but cooling on their skin. They waded together and splashed each other with the salty, foamy water as they moved into the shallows. As they sauntered further in they savoured the lapping tide moving against their bodies and the rain falling on their bare skin. The water now up to their waists, they clasped hands again and moved out until the water was almost up to their shoulders. They leaned their heads back in the water, lifting their feet off the seabed, floating with eyes up toward the sky. After allowing their bodies to float for a while, they swam together, heads under the water. They rolled over in the water from time to time and opened their eyes to look up at the night sky through the waves. Watching the ripples of moonlight and the lights along the boardwalk refracting through the water's surface. Marvelling at the patterns and shapes of light drifting through the water. Lost together in the beauty of the moment and submerged in their muted underwater world.

overpass

April 4, 2018

As children, they crossed the overpass every day. They congregated near the 'tin tabernacle' as each of them arrived. They swung their schoolbags, pulled up their white knee-high socks, and lingered as long as they could by the entrance to the overpass.

They talked about antics in the schoolyard the previous day. They gossiped about the boys they liked and the girls they didn't. They compared their bruises and blisters from swinging and twirling on the monkey bars the day before.

Sarah would always have some sweets to share, but she doled them out like party favours to each girl in turn. You knew whether you were Sarah's 'favourite' today by the order in which you received your chocolate drop or musk stick. Or if you got stuck with a black jelly-baby. No one else liked the liquorice-flavoured jelly-babies, but she did. So she didn't mind if she was last in line for sweets from time to time.

They didn't have to catch the train to school. In truth, they didn't actually have to pass the station at all to get there. But they detoured by the station to watch the trains pass by, thinking of where it might take them away from here. They thought the men and women in their suits were so sophisticated and stylish. They wondered at what they might find at the other end of the line, in the city. A destination that seemed so magical and far away from their suburban homes.

They stood on tiptoe trying to see the train as it pulled in to the station and then pulled away. The shorter girls warped the plastic sides of their lunchboxes as they stood on them to see. The steel barriers were set so high they could barely see the train until it was almost gone.

They talked non-stop about how different their lives would be if they lived in the city. How much more exciting and glamorous their lives would be then. Because, of course, one day they would live in the city. One day they would meet nice boys, get married, and be swept away from the dull part of town in which they now lived. But not the boys from their school. None of them were nice. Well, except that one boy.

They skipped across the overpass, realising they'd lingered and chattered too long. They had mere minutes before the school bell would ring out across the train tracks to tell them they were late again. Their teachers would give them stern looks, knowing they'd dawdled, not been attentive. Too distracted by other things to arrive on time and avoid disruption to the class, again. Their skipping accelerated to a run as they imagined the stern words they'd hear as they found their seats in class.

As she stood at the end of the overpass, her mind ran over those memories. In her mind's eye she watched the girls laugh and wave their arms as they ran down the other side of the overpass. Girls full of hopeful dreams of moving on. Girls too caught up in the small things to mind too much about the big things. Yet always wanting the big things. Not the small-mindedness of the neighbourhood they'd grown up in.

The laughter of a group of children approaching brought her back to the moment. She realised her mind had wandered. Waiting for the train, she'd let her mind slip back into the past, not for the first time, and no doubt not for the last.

She caught sight of her reflection in the convex mirror at the end of the overpass, in front of the 'tin tabernacle'. Once again the sight was a little unnerving. She was still becoming accustomed to the change of tone in her hair as she'd let the last of the dye grow out. As her hair colour faded from red to brown then to a light silver, she found herself fascinated by its new colour when she caught sight of it in mirrors. She knew it was her reflected in the mirrored surface, but it seemed like someone else altogether.

Her mind brought back into the moment by her reflection, her ear caught the sound of the bells at the level crossing announcing the arrival of the train from the city. She straightened her sweater; ran a hand through her hair to smooth it. She walked along the overpass. She was still not tall enough to see the train over the barrier as it pulled in. Nevertheless, she raised herself onto tiptoes in the attempt before walking along the overpass to wait for passengers to alight at the end of their journey from the city.