In the middle of a week that involved a garden tour at a rather posh restaurant, two days of hiking on particularly photogenic hills, and a fond farewell at Manchester airport as Ron headed off on yet another transcontinental trip there were so many photo opps for this week’s 52. (remember, I’m talking about week 29 back in July).
By Wednesday lunchtime I had it in the bag. But then I went for dinner in the Cavendish club (members from the local community and guests only, so if you want an invite there’s no use asking me). I was expecting somewhere stuffy and fussy, with elderly golfers hurrumphing at the youth of today. Or something down at heel like an old school refectory. What I didn’t expect when I ordered my meal of steak reared on the farm, washed down with a pint of locally brewed Chatsworth Gold was a wooden spoon.
I’ll let you into a secret, but you have to promise not to tell. It’s just between you and me. I didn’t have my tripod nor my cable release, so Ron pressed the shutter. I lined up the shot, balancing Vlad on the back of a chair while he sat in my place and smiled his sweetest smile. Then we swapped and I sat down.
“Where do you want the focus?” he asked just to double check it hadn’t moved.
So if you think the focus is a bit off don’t blame Ron, blame me because I told him firmly, “Focus on the spoon.”
And that’s just what he did.