Just thought that I would start to add some shots of Swansea and the surrounding area. The local coastline is magnificent, and regularly visited by many professional photographers. Swansea itself also offers hidden opportunities for photography, with the new maritime development changing the face of the city rapidly, while remnants of the area as Dylan Thomas knew it rapidly disappearing under new-build. I love the original market, and intend to spend some time trying to catch some of the characters who throng it’s narrow aisles.

The second shot is of our local ironmongers. This amazing Aladdins Cave is worth a visit just to view the impossible range of stock. This old style shop is dying fast and being replaced by DIY superstores, mores the pity. I have yet to beat them at not finding what I am looking for!

Undoubtedly I will add many photos of the Gower coastline in time.This first one, of course, continues the theme of sheep at Worms Head.

My ex- next door neighbour, Norma Williams, has opened a paper-shop/cafe on the new marina. Seen here serving her first cooked breakfast to yours truly. Pay her a visit for a sizeable breakfast or lunch-time snack – at VERY reasonable prices!

Thought I might drop this in -it is something of a visual comment on the degree of pollution caused by aircraft. Swansea is below the main flightpath between London and New york, among others. I found this sky quite alarming on e morning. The picture speaks for itself.

This much neglected blog is due to a number of factors, not least of which is three months sick leave, then glorious retirement from “the day job”. The sick leave was initially a bit scary – a slight TIA (stroke), and high blood pressure – then three months of pill-popping & serious R&R. The unexpected early retirement has been a boon, and has enabled me to take a fresh look at my life. Now back again, and firing on all cylinders, the photography and a change of lifestyle and pace is proving to be the most wonderful thing that has happened to me.

So, rather than boring drivel, I thought I might add lots of piccies with a brief explanation of each. Here goes – hope I can remember how the technology works !

Once again , I owe endless thanks to Chris, my Kazakh-computer guru for attempting to keep me functioning. This is a shot that Carol took of me under the computer desk looking quizzically at the wiring, while Chris attempts to give instructions over MSN! Chris, you have endless patience, and I owe you more than a few drinks.

One of the suggestions was that I should get a dog. OK, that sounds reasonable – tramping Wales’ hills and mountains taking photographs by my side, with a faithful friend beside you sounds perfectly reasonable. Carol fancies a Bichon ! Look at the bloody thing ! What will that do for my street-cred ?! Executive decision here – Welsh Border Collie – NOT a Bichon. Back me up someone, PLEASE. [I have been corrected - this is a cross between a Bichon and a King Charles Spaniel. Said to be wonderful pets. Still not for me though!]

My son, Anthony, got married recently to Lisa. After months of meticulous planning – and more than a few glitches (including the bridal dress shop burning down) the day went smoothly, with only the kind of mishaps one expects -the Best Man losing his speech, etc.. I find it wonderful that a son that caused my first wife, Anne, and I so much heartache by his constant struggle with epilepsy, is now 28 years old, married – and playing rugby regularly. I was very proud of him on the day.

Anthony & Lisa

Even I scrubbed up well on the day

We have aquired a motorhome. The theory is that ths will enable me to get into the hills early in the morning to catch the best light. All being well, I return to the warmth of the motorhome, with Carol waiting with a cooked breakfast. Well, that’s the theory anyway. Practice is likely to be a little different. For a start, I am not very good in the mornings. In fact, until I have had at least three cups of black coffee (at a reasonable hour), I have no wish to engage with the world at large. This does not bode well for someone who has aspirations to catch the first rays of sunshine from a mountain peak (tripping over a Bichon!)

Well, as you can see, it is very comfortable – and that will probably make it even more difficult to leave my bed before 4:00a.m. to take photographs. Maybe I should stick to sunsets – with a glass of wine of course.

Note the Teddy Bear securely belted in for the journey. I mentioned to Carol before Christmas that as a child I had never received a Teddy Bear or a train-set for Christmas, so she bought me a Teddy Bear for Christmas. How cool is that – 57 years old, and I get a Teddy Bear! (Looking forward to a Hornby Dublo set next year!!!)

Our first real journey out was to visit an Aunt of mine in Vanne, France. She is not too well at the moment, and was also long overdue for a visit. In my infinite wisdom, and on the advice of experts, I changed over from propane to camping gas in the motorhome just prior to the journey. What they didn’t tell me was that it was not merely a matter of swopping over the bottles. The result – it took over two and a half hours to boil two cups of water for coffee. Now, bearing in mind what I have admitted about not functioning until I get a major caffeine input in the morning – unshaven, wanting to kill, driving a right hand drive motorhome for the first time on French roads, in search of a cafe or bar that is open early in the morning, does not bode well for entente cordial . That aside, it was a brilliant trip. The French drivers are courteous and patient; on the campsites the staff could not have been more helpful and welcoming. This may not be the case in Paris – but who the hell wants to go to Paris? The lifestyle is laidback, gentle and human. Unfortunately, as France is dragged unwillingly into the uncaring 21st century, it is likely to lose much of its provincial attitude. It is sad that the world is becoming reduced to a “MacDonalds” culture. Long live individuality! Vive la France!

Lunchtime St Malo Brittany Sunset

Brittany is full of surprises. Hidden beaches, wonderful food, fewer Brit’s than I had anticipated, and the weather was really kind to us. So many of the place names had a real Celtic flavour about them, which sets this area aside from the rest of France. Nothing is what you expect – we came across hundreds of bikers in Vanne – a gruesome looking lot – all raising money for Cystic Fibrosis! Be warned, Easter Holidays – NOTHING opens. Boy, did we have to be creative about what we ate! However, we discovered one hotel in Vanne that proved to be an oasis of good food, very good wine – and they are still civilised enough to let you smoke! (Not for long though).

Vanne Cathedral

The Walls of St Malo

Entering Portsmouth HMS Warrior