Aeolistic


Newcastle

On the Quayside market, there was an amazing mirror stall.

I was nursing a sore head and stiff body when I wandered around the centre of Newcastle. I self-medicated with some chips with brown sauce and a slice of caramel shortbread (see above) and soon felt better.

Newcastle is a very pretty city. The layout of it is easy on the eye – roads wind up and down, interweaving with arches and other curved structures. There are plenty of quirks to it. Geordies are also very friendly. I took a taxi the night I got there and learned an impressive amount about the talkative driver’s life in the mere ten minutes I spent in his car. I felt bad for being such a cynical Londoner, wondering what these lovely people really wanted from me. It was a refreshing experience and I’d definitely like to go back when I have more time to soak it in.

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A spring in your step

Rarely do I like one of my own photos as much as this one (above) – mainly because it was such a fluke shot. I love playing around with reflections and mirror images.

I’m clawing my way out of my photo slump, slowly but surely. It could be described more accurately as a creative slump but I’ve been making waves over the past few weeks – sewing, music, taking photos (jack of all trades, master of none). And yesterday, after a few years of avoidance, I went and bought a sketchbook and some pencils. It’s going to be like trying to write in a different language on the first few attempts but at least it’s something to do that isn’t panicking over general life confusion. I swear most of my friends feel as confused as I am right now about what to do with their lives. Perhaps it’s a quarter-life crisis or something, catalysed by the dismal job market. Instead of dying my hair and buying a leather jacket/expensive car, I’m grasping at creative straws to compensate for relative failure in the non-creative aspects of my life. Making things proves that I am productive and making progress as there is something tangible to show for my efforts.

It’s funny, actually. One of my friends called last night for a general catch-up. He said, “I knew something was up as soon as you said you’d bought a new sketchbook.” I’m that easy to read, it seems! I guess the choice I made between creative and non-creative (not that it’s so rigidly defined, but humour me) will always leave a ‘what if’ or a temporary get-out clause if everything isn’t going to plan.