What the fuck is that all about. I get an uncontrollable urge to laugh whenever a photographer or model use the phrase. Does your house have a boudoir? Do you know anyone who lives in a house with a boudoir? Very unlikely. Let’s just cut through the arty-farty bullshit and call it what it really is. Wishy-washy soft porn.
A few hours at the seaside, and a day away from the computer, to de-stress. Staring out to sea tends to have a calming effect on me, I should do it more often, shame I’m a centre of the country based house cat. Cleethorpes was the chosen destination because North Lincolnshire is a part of the country I’ve never visited before so another railway route crossed off my trainspotters bucket list. The town didn’t disappoint being a typical long passed it’s glory days English seaside resort. The 2 largest businesses on the high street appeared to be a mobility scooter centre and a Wetherspoon’s pub. That tells you a lot I think. Still the clean beautiful sandy beach makes up for the rundown nature of the town centre. It’s been almost 50 years since I last gazed out on the North Sea so unless I decide to take the adventurous train journey to Skeggy it could be my east coast swansong.
Some snaps of a pretty amateur model. She was a bit inexperienced, you might even say shy, may have only ever posed nude for a boyfriend before, but she still made a very nice girl next door type photo. She appears to have only worked with a handful of photographers and then vanished from the scene. It’s a common enough story. It only takes a month or so to discover the pitfalls of modelling.
So how did I start snapping pretty young ladies? The same way most amateur photographers of my age started, at the local camera club. Up until then I had little interest in people photography, I shot landscapes and abstracts (natural patterns). My first club portrait evening was exciting stuff. Rolls of background paper, stands, lights, umbrellas, reflectors, flash meters, cables strewn everywhere, and last but definitely not least an attractive young lady in a flimsy blouse. I was hooked and my first steps on the road to depravity had been taken.
It’s almost become traditional that my birthday is spent at Twycross Zoo. This year because of coughs and colds we were a month later going but I was still freezing even under 5 layers of clothing. I’m a sucker for big cats and Twycross has the luxury of 2 of the rarest species of leopard on the planet. I think I’m like many people nowadays, zoos are a bit of a moral dilemma. Should wild animals be kept in captivity? I hate to see them pacing backwards and forwards at the enclosure perimeters, a sure sign of boredom in my humble opinion. But on the other hand if it wasn’t for zoos what chance would you have of seeing an Amur or Snow Leopard. Going on the numbers left in the wild absolutely zero.