Brogborough – a Therapeutic Visit

My priorities since the house in Caddington was definitely finally selling and I could rest assured that the house for which I had put in an offer was definitely going to become my new home, have been exclusively concentrated upon ensuring that the move was made as efficiently as possible without the distraction of my involvement in photography, I made just one concession, because the event had been planned long before the sale, and that was to relax in the company of fellow photographer Geoff Dann by visiting  Clerkenwell during its week of Design celebrations. Today I had two electricians helping to transform my new third bedroom into an office to house the essential electrical paraphernalia that are now the essential tools of the digital photographer.

I spent the early part of the day seeing that what I planned was capable of being achieved, and answering any questions that arose, and trying to ensure that the mountain range of boxes somehow allowed access to those areas that needed twin and switched sockets where either none existed previously or were single and unswitched, the office needed a minimum of twenty four, and these were to come mounted on a board on a separate circuit.

The weather was fine with a promise of sunshine and hopefully a breeze, so once I knew all was underway, I decided I needed therapy and the conditions seemed to promise a remedy just a short cycle ride away – the lake at Brogborough, and the undoubted windsurfing fraternity eager to be on the water, so I gathered my gear together and strapped it in the basket newly-mounted on my push-bike and set off. On arrival the medicine was there in abundance as were the windsurfers, and I took a long draught  as I set to mounting the EOS7D MkII with the Tamron 150-600mm onto to the gimbal head atop the newly-purchased Giottos carbon fibre tripod. I sat down right by the water’s edge and gave myself just over an hour to capture a few shots to break my self-imposed fast and get my ‘fix’.

The wind favoured those who enjoyed jumping and so I imbibed with relish when the surfer’s desire matched my own, whilst there was a lull in the human activity on the lake, I turned my lens on a young family of ducks who with their mother in attendance braved the turbulent waters close to the shore where I was ensconced. Little did I know at this stage how that family were to become the unwitting stars of a small drama played out upon the shoreline. I turned my lens back upon the main scene and spotted one man who seemed intent upon jumping and managed to capture at least something of the action.

The wind dropped and several surfers returned to shore amongst them the hero whose small jump I had witnessed and I let him know by thanking him for his display. He came over and said that there seemed to be a small amount of air beneath the board. The wind picked up and the sun joined in and he took to the water again, and this time there was no doubt about there being air beneath, for which I was very grateful.

Soon after this we spotted three lone ducklings braving the increasing swell and even finding themselves ignominiously being flung ashore – the drake was nowhere to be seen and several surfers then decided this was a situation that could not be endured and a plastic bin was commandeered to attempt to scoop them from the maelstrom, and return them to the family group, the first two were soon scrabbling away safely in their makeshift lifeboat as their human saviour attempted to scoop their sibling to join them to be returned to their mother. However, that was not to be, he or she, feared these great human warriors were out for sport and he/she was not in the mood for playing their game, and for the next several minutes he/she managed to outwit the machinations of these evil giants which was causing both great mirth and much concern in equal parts in the observers of this tragi-comedy unfolding before us all – we may be giants in stature, but we were no match for this plucky ducky! Sheer weight of numbers finally completed the rescue by which time the mother and the rest of her fold were back on the scene so all three were finally reunited with the family, and we all heaved a sigh of relief and were really happy for the mother.

My allotted time was up, so after a chat with one man, André, who had somehow emailed me concerning some shots I had taken, though I had never received the message, I apologised and hopefully we can meet up again and sort things, as we found we were both close neighbours in the village of Marston Moretaine! I returned to the house in good time thanks to a following wind, and I was glad of the medicine.