This was the sight that made me ask Kim if we could pull over for a few minutes. The old English church, half-hidden by the mist, behind that exquisite stone wall.
As an introduction, it was grand but it only got better after we stepped through the gate.
We're having a few days of mist and fog on this side of the world. Although, today the rain set in, here in Southsea. I'm sitting close to the open door at the Drift Bar, leaving for the library sooner or later but it's a great place to work. I'm happy enough, perched on the edge of another world, watching the clientele come and go as I write here. Breathing in that secondhand smoke that arrives through that open door and reminds me of my childhood spent down at Nana's.
Nana, it has to be noted, was horrified that I loved the smell of "beer and baccy" at her house. Not that it was beer and baccy, (She actually enjoyed her G&T and Grandad was a a fairly measured whiskey drinker). The smell of their place was more about the coalstone range, cigarette smoke and home-cooked food.
But back here, in England, they greet you if you look up as they come through the door. I love that.
I'm trying so hard not to ask about the possibility of a photograph exhibition here. This desire wells up in me every time I find some hub ... a sense of a community, I want to talk to the people, photograph them, learn of their lives because I find the lives of others are often so interesting.
I had a photography exhibition in Antwerp, titled Public Self/Private Self. This bar is one of those places ... a place where young and old gather, at different times. A place where everyone knows each others name. Those are the places that fascinate me. The people, and their stories of living somewhere forever, or not.
But anyway, London soon. And I'm looking forward to learning that world.
Tot straks.
