marramgrass

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent.

• Yesterday was Shrove Tuesday, or Pancake Tuesday, symbolic of the last blow out before Lent begins.
• Elsewhere, Mardi Gras and Carnival are celebrated for the same purpose.
• Ash Wednesday is named for the liturgical practice of being marked with ashes as a sign of repentance.
• The ashes used are from the burning of the palm leaves or crosses from last year’s Palm Sunday.
• Lent is the season of fasting, prayer and reflection leading up to Easter, which is forty days long not counting feast days (Sundays) when the tradition is that the fast can be broken.

The various churches and traditions observe the season and the fast in different ways, including abstaining from certain foods, more rigourous fasting, different patterns of worship and liturgy, or other forms of abstinence. Last year and this year I’ve known people observing Lent by abstaining from some form of technology, for example internet access outside of work. Virtual Methodist proposed a full-on Lo-Tec Lent, but I’m not sure how many takers he had (and he has himself admitted defeat).

Lent and Easter are times when some churches who would normally run from such things let their liturgical side show a little, and the Lenten fast seems to remain a fairly common observance in these parts — anecdotally, of course, since I haven’t carried out a detailed survey! Perhaps its popularity is connected to the waning of New Year’s resolutions two or three months down the line, as inspiration to put that chocolate bar down?

(PAW2009 08/52)

Every couple of weeks there is a meet-up in Lisburn for various techy, geeky, entrepreneurial and bloggery types, shortly after 7 on a Friday morning. It’s a chance to get together for a bit of craic and a cup of your preferred early morning waker-upper.

Who says the internet is killing social interaction?

We were in a cafe that I didn’t know about; apparently it’s only been open a few weeks. Decent spots to get together and relax are few in Lisburn, so this one is very welcome. If you’re in the area, it’s down the lane beside the library, and worth going looking for.

(PAW2009 07/52)

I was sitting, waiting on some food. (Café Fish on the Lisburn Road does a fine chicken burger.)

This was the day Belfast had struggled to work through the snow, only to discover that the city itself was clear. By then, the damage had been done; the morning commute took hours. There was something a little sad about that: fighting your way through the traffic, taking your chances with iced roads, only to discover that when you finally get into the city itself the snow has disappeared.

I waited on the burger so that we could head on to the first of our ante-natal classes at the Royal. We’re pretending that it’s possible to prepare at least a little bit for what’s to come, but actually it’s more waiting. Waiting for time to pass, for maternity leave to begin, for birth, for life.

So I kill time by taking photos in the wing mirror.

Today is the 200th anniversary of the birth of Charles Darwin, and of Abraham Lincoln.

Also, it’s 125 years today since Lewis Waterman was awarded the patent on his design for the fountain pen, one of the key innovations of which was the feed — the hard rubber or plastic bit under the nib which regulates the flow of ink to the nib.

Fountain pens are one of the slight anachronisms that remain in my life; they go well with my insistence on photographing on film. They’re half-way between simply being the tool of choice when I write (given that almost everything I do begins life with a pen and paper) and being a small hobby in themselves. I hesitate to say I’m a collector, but I will tell you that I have more than one.

I have more than twenty, actually. They range from decades old to brand new, and from a couple of pounds’ worth to… a bit more than a couple of pounds’ worth. Best not to ask in too much detail. I have pens that were made in the USA, in Italy, in Japan, in Germany and in the UK, some made by one-guy-in-a-workshop outfits, some by small companies, some by huge global operations. It’s a nice variety, and every one of them gets used regularly.

My first pen as an adult was a birthday present from my wife a couple of years after we were married. I discovered then that a well-made (which is often not the same thing as expensive) fountain pen, when handled with only the slightest amount of care, doesn’t leak, blot, run dry or otherwise cause hassle. I also discovered that that slightest amount of care was much less than you think. Who’d've thought?

My third discovery was that they’re slightly addictive. It could be worse. As obsessions go, it’s quite mild and mostly harmless.

Inks, though, are a whole different world.

I’m often amused by the different reactions inspired by the notion of charity. I know more than one person who is, in morals or philosophy, completely opposed to charity. Even for me it can provoke some complex wonderings.

Example: have you noticed how common it is now for Big Issue sellers in Belfast to meet a polite “no, thanks” with a request for any spare change? I get all indignant about that; the whole idea of the Big Issue is that it’s not begging. In my mind the seller has deviated from the expected, accepted behaviour and broken some sort of social contract, so I’m perfectly justified in walking away annoyed and self-righteous.

Crazy, isn’t it?

(I don’t intend to get into the various debates about the usefulness or the consequences of giving money to people begging on the street. I’m not well-enough informed to go there.)

I offer this anecdote as an intro to something a bit different.

Developed in the collaborative culture of meetups, tweetups, unconferences and so many others, Twestivals will be happening tommorrow, all over the world — including in Belfast. Organised by a couple of guys with no resources other than the willingness to ask for sponsors — many of whom have put up a little or a lot to help — all proceeds go to the Twestival chosen charity (charity: water, which I admit to never having heard of).

I can’t make it tomorrow, but I wish everyone involved all the best with it. It’s a neat idea, birthed and enabled by the internet and one of these new-fangled social-network-things that get such mixed press. New models and new approaches are exciting.

(PAW2009 06/52)

I don’t photograph in colour, much. That’s one of the reasons for my continuing use of film: while digital is great for colour, I’ve still to be convinced by it for black and white work. Which is not to say I never do digital black and white or colour film — pixels from a sensor may be more convenient, but remember what Paul Simon sang? “Mama, don’t take my Kodachrome away.” Or my Astia, please.

Not only is this image in colour, but I’ve processed it to be a bit bolder and more saturated than I normally would. I generally don’t like the effect, but maybe it suits the subject. I’m not really sure. A side-effect of rarely working in colour is that my judgement is probably a bit off; more practice is needed.

The subject is the Jaffe Fountain at Victoria Square in Belfast; Alan has all the details (as he often does in these parts).

This is the last shot I have to post from my dander around the other week, but it’s my plan to go back armed with something more than the pocket camera I was carrying that day.

(PAW2009 05/52)

How often do you pay attention to what’s going on over your head? Am I the only one who still looks up every single time I walk into Victoria Square?

There’s another building in the centre of Belfast that I should photograph. I was driving through before Christmas and happened to glance up and notice its dramatic dome for the first time — after years of driving along that street. All around the City Hall are brightly-lit shops, but they stop at the first, or at most second, floor. Above the signs, Belfast is an altogether classier city. Ever noticed?

Perhaps this could be the seed of a project: Belfast overhead.