Some more of my witterings
Last night we were entertained by El Presidente
A photo quiz
Steve had wandered around our fair town, looking at it askance, and taking images which he then challenged us to identify and also, name its location.
Some of them were easy, like the front door to the Parish centre
or Judge Dread, sorry, Tindall
but did you know where the Black Boy public house stood?
That there is an original street light, made by the Crompton factory, outside Oaklands Museum?
or the plaque to Thomas Hooker, Father of American Democracy. A man, chastised by religious bigotry in this country, fled to America where he set up (with others) the colony of Connecticut. Here he preached his sermon declaring that "the foundation of authority is laid in the free consent of the people."
Less salubrious anecdotes tell of one of his heirs leading a militia force, where the ladies that followed the troops were known as ‘hookers’ … I wonder if that name stuck?
It made me realise, that as a Chelmsford lad, born and bred, I know so little of its heritage. I shall now be looking for old Chelmsford, the place behind the flashy facades of yet another eating establishment.
On a different note, I recently attended an EAF judging course in Cambridge.
What an eye opener that was.
I discovered that I’m colour blind (subsequently checking, I find that I’m among the eighty or so percent of us that don’t have perfect vision) that I’m crap at public speaking, and that judges are a special breed.
They stand up there and have to decide what the author was trying to say, does it fill the brief, could the composition be improved upon, & could it be processed better. All the time whilst not making the tog throw his camera gear in the trash can in disgust.
I found I’m good at talking to prints!
Then there’s the time management, if you have ninety images to get through, you’ve probably only got a minute to wax lyrical about this image before the next one comes up. I discovered if I’m to do this, I’m gonna need copious amounts of alcohol.
So the next time you decry a judge, bear in mind that they’ve probably done a full days work, bolted their dinner, driven an hour and a half to your clubhouse, had to charge through your competition, because you started late, the tea break went on too long & you had to be out by ten, then they have to jump back in their motor to find that the council have shut of half the roads back home, and still be up at six the next morning to go to work.
Thanks to all the guys that made it happen.
It takes a great man to be the judge of others … I ain’t so mighty!
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