Meeting

The three of us got together this afternoon to pick the artists for the exhibition in the Mill at the end of May. As I left the house I tossed over my shoulder to MrP "do tidying and cleaning while I'm out, like I do when you're out". He made a very funny sound, an explosive 'Pah' I think would best describe it.There was evidence of log chopping and supper cooking when I returned, so complaineth? I am not.

L's house, where we met, is a very tall and rather narrow former shop premises, six floors in total, built on the side of a steep hill. You walk in and can go down three flights or up two more plus the a roof garden. The pitch of the stairs puts me in mind of ships ladders, best descended slowly and without having consumed too much grog. The kitchen window looks out in to the tops of huge trees out the back. I couldn't take me off the reflections. Such was the company I was indulged in taking pictures while it was business as usual.

I hared out with the dog at the end of the day feeling so grateful for the lengthening light. The allure of lit windows won out.

I had been setting up a shot of a pub door, nice squares of light echoing a jukebox, when the screen went black. I looked up. A rather large man had popped out for a smoke.