Flower Power

This week I knew I had my (hopefully) final chemotherapy session (although I still have weeks on the horrible, toxic pills). On Monday the weather was gorgeous, so after going for the blood tests I have to do two days befor each chemo poison torture session, I went for a walk, got lunch, then walked more, and then more. All the way from Gorgie to Haymarket, to the West End of the New Town, then Saint Cuthbert’s and Princes Street Gardens (where I found to my delight the Nepali Scottish Mela was taking place), then round King’s Stables Road to the Grassmarket, West Port, then the Meadows and finally a well-earned seat in Cloisters for a rest, drink and read my book.

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(Above: I was really pleaased with the way the focus turned out on this shot, the foreground sharp, the background in soft focus – this effect is called ‘bokeh’ – and the contrasting colours. There’s even a wee bee on a flower in the foreground. Below: another bokeh shot, the sharp flower in the foreground, the rearwards one in soft, blurred focus giving depth to the shot)

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Of course the camera was also out for its stroll, and the light was so good (half the work done for taking a good pic is having the right light), and I took dozens of photos of everything, from street photography of people to architecture to flowers. Lots and lots of flowers, as it turned out.

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(wee bee nestling inside a flower on the lower right)

I make no apology, the light made the colurs so vibrant, I kept taking more photos, stopping frequently when I saw more. In among this long, waking nightmare of my cancer year, the beautiful light and the colours of the flowers and the buzzing of bees landing on them (you can see some wee busy bees in several pics), all combined to make me feel alive and make me smile and just drink it in (and, me being me, to capture that light and colour in a photograph and share it).

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(For the obvious reasons, I normally shoot in colour for flower pics, but some simply work better in monochrome, especially when they have that strong contrast being partly in the sunlight, partly in shadows. I don’t grayscale in Photoshop, if you see my pic in B&W it means I choose to shoot in B&W, I think the effect works better; also I don’t like monkeying with my photos in Photoshop like a lot of people do these days, I am old-fashioned, I think a photographer should do most of their work through the lens, picking mode, angle, composition as they shoot. That’s what photography is about, capturing what you see, not altering it all afterwards)

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I absolutely tired myself out – my battery charge is very limited as the chemo screws your basic biochemstistry, the thing your body relies on, but it was worth it for a good day when I got to smile, to marvel at the beauty of the world and not think about bloody cancer for a few hours.

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I’m not going to post all of them here – you can, as ever, check them all out on the Woolamaloo Fickr stream (now well north of 30, 000 pictures uploaded!), where you can also view the much larger versions, as well as my many other photos. Hope the flower images brightened up your day a little.

Sakura Time!

It’s that time of year when the cherry blossom trees are blooming with silken petals, all over the city. My favourite spot to enjoy them is in the Meadows, the huge, popular park in the middle of the city, which boasts two avenues lined with cherry trees, creating a “tree tunnel” you can walk through.

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While I was stuck for those eight, long, dragging days in hospital, dreaming of being able to go outside again, I found myself thinking that the sakura would bloom within a few weeks, and I wanted to be out of hospital and also to be recovered enough to walk through it. I do this every year, but this year, with the cancer surgery and ongoing treatment (chemo now awaits… sigh) it felt more precious than ever. I was dreaming of walking under those branches, heavy with blossoms, with my friend on my arm.

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So, each day since I got out and moved back to the family home, dad and I would go for small walks to help me build myself back up slowly, then after a week I moved back to Edinburgh to my own flat, continuing my walks each day. On one such walk I saw the blossoms were almost full, so arranged to come back a few days later with my friend, and we promenaded arm in arm under those delicate blossoms. The Meadows was full of happy people enjoying the burst of fine, spring weather and the arrival of the blossoms, just a lovely atmosphere, and, as I said, this time with everything I have been enduring, it just felt so much more precious to do this annual ritual.

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And I shot a couple of “walk through” videos to go with the photos:

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A Hunting Heron

On one of our daily recuperation strolls with dad a few days ago, we had driven to Hogganfield Loch in Glasgow, a good-sized body of water which used to be home to rowboats (sadly they seem to have gone, at least for now), and large amounts of birds make it their home. As we walked around (slowly, my pace is so reduced I don’t have to remind myself to slow down to match my dad!), I snapped a few photos (of course), spotting this Goldeneye duck in the loch (as everyone knows, the Goldeneye is the most James Bond of all ducks!!).

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According to a wildlife site, the Goldeneyes spend much of the winter in the Highlands and come down to central Scotland in the spring, attracted to large bodies of water like this, so we were lucky in our timing (I could only see this pair, perhaps there were a few others further out).

A fellow photographer we had been chatting to pointed us to a large body of reeds in a corner, just beyond the main path, where a heron was standing, stock-still. Then every now and then it would move, very slightly and slowly, and I realised it was stalking something in the muddy ground between the reeds.

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I managed a few photos, then saw its head duck down swiftly – it had found its prey. I couldn’t get a clear photo because the head was below the reeds now, so it was obscured. I could just make out the heron scooping up some hapless creature (likely a frog) in that long, sharp beak, tilting its head back to swallow it. By the time it raised its head above the reeds again so I could take some close-ups, it had already consumed whatever it had been hunting.

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Still, it was remarkable to get close enough to use the zoom to get a few close-ups of this creature – you can see the dinosaur heritage in these things, especially when hunting remorselessly.

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Best of the Year – 2025

It’s time for a look at some of what I most enjoyed reading this year – fiction, non-fiction, and graphic novels. As every it is not a complete list, and given how much I read over a year, there are always titles I will only remember well after posting this (with an oops, how did I forget that one? slap to the head, so apologies to anyone missed out).

If you are interested in buying any of these, please, if you can, consider doing so from your local, independent bookshop (Jeff Bezos does not need another yacht, as one of my colleagues put it!). If you buy online, you can use BookshopDotOrg which allows you to order a book and nominate a local Indie bookshop who will get a percentage of the sale (so you don’t have to use Spamazon)

Non-Fiction

The Sun Rising: James I and the Dawn of Global Britain,
Anna Whitelock,
Bloomsbury

2025 marked four centuries since James VI & I died, and there were several new history books marking this anniversary. I didn’t have time to read them all, of course, but Bloomsbury kindly sent me this one. Not so much a biography of the Scottish king who succeeded Elizabeth I to then sit on both the Scottish and English thrones, but about the world around him, changing, and laying the groundwork for what would come in later centuries (uniting the kingdoms, for both good and ill, something we’re still arguing about, the movement into colonialism that would lead to empire and to global trading, again something we’re still dealing with).

Earth Shapers: How Humans Mastered Geography and Remade the World,
Maxim Samson,
Profile Books

Samson traverses the centuries and the continents, examining the way different human cultures have interacted, for good and bad, with their environments, from the astonishing road networks linking pre-Columbian civilisations in South America to the “green wall” across the edge of the Sahara. It takes in history, politics, psychology, sociology and nature, in a fascinating and thought-provoking manner. Ideal for those who enjoyed the likes of Power of Geography.

Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli: the Epic Story of the Making of the Godfather,
Mark Seal,
Gallery Books

Coppola’s movie has earned its place in the pantheon of greatest films of the 20th century, while Puzo’s novel which inspired it has remained in print for decades. This deep-dive explores both, taking in Puzo’s struggling writing career and gambling addiction, a struggling studio deciding to make a film of the book, the many problems that plagued the production, from personality clashes to problems with the real Mafia (from threats to suddenly wanting to be in the film), it is as compelling as the movie itself, and a great read for anyone who loves cinema.

It’s also a reminder that there was a time when now almost gods of cinema like Coppola and Pacino were all but unknown, with producers and studio execs wondering why they were bothering with them (seems bizarre to us now, from our perspective, of course)

Is a River Alive?
Robert MacFarlane,
Hamish Hamilton/Penguin

I love Robert’s work, and have been waiting several years, since his remarkable Underland book, and I was not disappointed. Travelling to different parts of the world, from South America to Canada to India, water is the connection here to each chapter, just as rivers and seas have traditionally been the connections between human societies.

MacFarlane doesn’t just visit these places, though, he travels with and listens to the local people who try to protect these environments, who explain its importance to them, not just a natural resource, but a part of their way of life. It doesn’t shy away from the awfulness of environmental damage, but it also underscores those fighting back – it is a warning, but it is also hopeful and inspiring, wrapped in MacFarlane’s beautiful, lyrical prose; one of those precious books that rekindles your sense of wonder about how remarkable our world is (and why we must take better care of it). My favourite read of 2025.

Graphic Novels

The Casebook of Stamford Hawksmoor,
Bryan Talbot,
Jonathan Cape

I consider Bryan Talbot to be pretty much the UK’s greatest comics creator, someone who has been at the top of his game for decades (I’ve also been fortunate enough to chair Bryan at the Edinburgh International Book Festival). His Grandville series was an absolute masterclass of clever storytelling (building layers with each volume), astonishingly detailed, rich artwork, and with multiple references (to history, art, films, other comics and more, demanding re-readings).

Here we have a prequel to Grandville, with LeBrock’s mentor, the great detective who trained him, Stamford Hawksmoor, a deliberately Sherlock Holmes themed character. It’s a superb piece of work, an engrossing mystery, woven through the last days of the old regime changing hands to the one we know in Grandville, and again layered with references, from Spiegelman’s Maus to The Outlaw Josey Wales (let no-one say Bryan’s influences are not diverse!). Although it is a prequel to Grandville, this could be read by anyone who hasn’t encountered that series, but obviously those who have will find more in the details to spot.

Muybridge,
Guy Delisle,
Drawn & Quarterly

I’ve taken photographs for as long as I can remember – my late Uncle Jim gave me a Kodak 110 camera (remember those?) when I was in primary school, then a few years later, my first 35mm camera – and I have been a huge fan of Guy Delisle’s work, especially his travel literature comics, so Guy looking at the odd life of Muybridge, one of the pioneers of early photography, was always going to fascinate me. If you’re not familiar with the name, you have almost certainly seen his astonishing sequence of still images that first captured a running horse, showing each step, and that the hooves did all leave the ground. Injured in a stagecoach accident, his personality noticeably changed (a head trauma?), and while his photographic genius remained, this is a man who would later commit murder (and get away with it).

It’s a fascinating insight into an unusual man attempting the impossible, and the influence that work had (not least cinema), although I think it could have done without the use of a photograph of animal abuse in one scene (that really wasn’t required, and should have had a warning, I think, the explicit scene not adding anything other than disgust, but that’s just one niggle in anotherwise fascinating book).

Low: Bowie’s Berlin Years,
Reihnhard Kleist,
SelfMadeHero

I’ve shouted out Reinhard’s work since the early days – back before his groundbreaking Cash: I See a Darkness graphic biography of Johnny Cash was published, on the FP Blog we highlighted it and said it needed to be translated and published into English. I’ve followed his work ever since, and had the good fortune to chair him at the Edinburgh International Book Festival. Reinhard is a master at creating fascinating graphic biographies, especially of artists (his works on Nick Cave and Johnny Cash are amazing); he interweaves their artwork through the events of their life, knowing with an artist you really cannot separate them, giving a real flavour of the complex person who created that art.

Also, you have Bowie sharing a flat in then West Berlin (still Cold War, so Berlin Wall still up) with the equally iconic Iggy Pop, which almost sounds like the set up for a sit-com.

Second Shift,
Kit Anderson,
Avery Hill

I always find myself backing Kickstarter campaigns for some of Avery Hill’s new slate of publications each year, and this was one of them for 2025. A science fiction work, set on a distant world where three humans, working shifts and spending time between in isolation, plugged into “Station”, their AI, for distraction and amusement. There are echoes of the film Moon here and there – what are they really doing on this distant planet, does the mega corp that sent them even still exist, does the AI tell them the truth?

The discovery of a similar but now empty base to their own opens up a new line of enquiry for the main character, with Kit expertly sliding us into her world from the start so we discover things alongside her.

Dry Cleaned,
Joris Mertens (translated Julia Blackburn & Sandra Van Der Beek)
Jonathan Cape

François is a middle-aged man, the same suit every day, the cigarette dangling from his lips, doing the same work – a daily run in a van for a dry cleaning business. It always seems to be raining (symbolically he lacks even a raincoat), the raise he’s asked for over the years never appears, and now he’s training a younger worker, and worried they will take his job. His only lights are a local single woman and her daughter, who he dotes on, and he dreams of winning the lottery (playing the same numbers every time) and giving them and him a better life.

When a chance delivery for work leads to him stumbling into a bloody crime scene, there’s a chance to make easy money, and it is very tempting… I wasn’t familiar with this European creator until this book, and while I enjoyed the story, I did find it a little predictable in places, but oh wow, the artwork lifts it beyond that. Published in a larger format, it lets you enjoy that art – the rain-lashed streets of the city, the lights reflecting on wet roads, it is simply gorgeous comics artwork.

Fiction

Automatic Noodles,
Annelee Newlitz,
Tor/Macmillan

This was a lovely surprise – the publisher sent me a copy unexpectedly, and I was very pleased they did. A brief novella, it follows some robot workers in a bad fast food joint, waking each other up to discover their former employer has shut their awful business and fled, switching them all off and abandoning then. It’s near-future California, recovering from a war against “the Yankees” for independence (some of the robots also took part in the war, and have issues from it), and while the robots are nominally free, there are some who don’t like that, and the Yankee agitators operate social media sock puppets to sow dissension about things like robot rights.

In an attempt to keep their freedom, they all pool together to turn the abandoned business into a very good noodle place, something they can all enjoy working in and take pride from, while dealing with obstacles along the way. It’s brief, but it is a delightful read, and packs in a lot about identity, acceptance and second chances into a slim volume. Smile inducing.

When the Moon Hits Your Eye,
John Scalzi,
Tor/Macmillan

I’ve enjoyed Scalzi’s work for years, and his most recent works, such as Starter Villain (a man in a career-life crisis discovers he has inherited his estranged late uncle’s business empire, which turns out to be a front for a supervillain organisation, complete with volcano lair!), have veered towards a more light-hearted approach, partly in response to the dismal period of Covid and Lockdown. Moon is another fun read, taking one of the oldest comedy tropes in SF – that the Moon is made of cheese – and making it a reality.

Starting with panic in the Neil Armstrong museum as they realise their prize moon rock specimen is now cheese (“what kind of cheese?” someone asks), it then goes around a diverse cast of people coming to the realisation of what has happened, impossible though it should be, and what it actually means, from physicists to religious figures trying to make sense of it.

Dinner at the Night Library,
Hika Harada (translated Philip Gabriel),
Scribner

Japanese fiction in translation has been big in the UK in recent years, every since the success of the Before the Coffee Gets Cold series (which I enjoyed), and it is a bit of a running joke in the book trade that so many feature a bookshop or library and a cat on the cover (as indeed this one does!). Our central character is offered a job by a mysterious employer who only appears online (with no video) to talk to them, at a remote library that houses collections from deceased authors, all the books they wrote, all the ones they collected.

It’s in a distant location, so has its own dormitory and canteen, where the chef makes daily menus inspired by recipe ideas from novels. There’s a mild mystery or two, and it is a gentle read, very Japanese (everything done a certain way), but after a couple of heavy duty books, this was the perfect tonic, well-written but also easy going, and very much aimed at book lovers.

The Haunting of Hero’s Bay,
Amanda Block,
Hodder

I really enjoyed Amanda’s debut novel a few years ago, The Lost Storyteller, and recommended it quite a bit in our bookshop, so I was looking forward to her second book. Following a young man who finds himself drifting a bit following his long-time romance falling apart (and worse, his ex is now marrying someone else and inviting him and his family to the wedding), he takes a job with his aunt, swapping Edinburgh for the West Country, where she is renovating an old buildings as a hotel.

The tiny, seaside village is famed for an enormous painting showing a shipwreck in the bay, created by an aristocratic artist who lost his life swimming to the rescue of a similar shipwreck. The past of smugglers and wreckers on that rugged coast, art and modern day life start to converge in a very satisfying manner. Ghosts, art, history and romance.

Jesus Christ Kinski,
Benjamin Meyers,
Bloomsbury

Yes, this is that Kinski – Klaus, the famously insane German actor (and I do mean insane literally, he was certified and put into care at one point). This is quite a departure for Meyers, very different from his other works, and you find him pondering his choices as half of the book is Kinski’s inner monologue as he performs a one-man show about Jesus on stage in Germany in the 1970s, and the other half is the author debating with himself, why am I writing this, why does this performance by a much-maligned, egotistic, mad German actor most folk don’t remember compel me to write about them instead of doing another “hit” novel or another that gets filmed? It’s very different and totally compelling, one of the more intriguing and unusual novels I’ve read in 2025.

Dark Crescent,
Lyndsey Croal,
Luna Press

I’ve known Lyndsey for some time, through our Edinburgh based Shoreline of Infinity journal of science fiction, and our annual Cymera SF literary festival, and I was delighted to read this collection of short tales by her, ahead of us having an absolutely terrific launch night for it in our bookshops. Dark Crescent’s stories mostly riff on, or are inspired by, Scottish folklore, some with obvious roots, given their own, unique twist and angle, others are more her own invention, but feel very much like there is a real legend inspiring it, which you feel you could go and look up.

The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre,
Philip Fracassi,
RunForIt/Orbit

I really enjoyed Philip’s Boys in the Valley, a horror novel with icy teeth, set in a remote, early 1900s Catholic orphanage during a snowstorm, where a sheriff’s posse bring in a dying suspect covered in arcane tattoos, that looses something demonic within the walls. This new book is tonally totally different from that Exorcist-vibe tale – yes it is horror, there are multiple deaths, but it also much lighter and actually rather fun in places (despite the body count!).

Set in a retirement home where a couple of residents start to suspect the recent spate of deaths is not just due to the age and infirmity of the residents, but a cover for a serial killer to do their work, this is a total hoot – imagine your slasher movie “final girl” being in her eighties, and you start to get the picture. A terrific collision of humour and horror.

Autumn arrives

After a day of mixed weather, going from sunlight to showers and back, it was quite nice on the walk home from work, so I detoured through the old boneyard near my flat, to take some pics of the chestnut tree.

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The sun was declining, the lower parts of the tree were in evening shadow already, but the upper branches and leaves and chestnuts were catching that copper-coloured, last hour of sunlight, so I zoomed in to catch a few close-ups.

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I got quite lucky with some close focus shots – bokeh, as it is often called, where the object in the foreground is sharp and the background a soft blur.

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And what is autumn without more chestnuts?

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After The Rain

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A week of very mixed weather, bright, warm, summer sunlight and heavy showers and gusty winds, then back to sunshine. While unpredicatable, this weather does offer up one of the smallest but loveliest of simple pleasures: raindrops on flower petals. Sometimes something as simple and everyday, such as the stroll to work, yields such precious, little moments.

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The older I get, the more important it feels to pause, even if only for a few seconds, to admire such things, when the world offers them up to us; they make our days more magical, and remind us, regardless of how full the news is of dreadful happenings, that we can still find little, magical moments, if we pause and look.

Slowly Unfurling Beauty

New Life

We lost our old breeding pair of swans on our stretch of the Union Canal a couple of years back, so after many years of taking photos of them, and then their cygnets each spring, for a few years this part was without the welcome, annual event of the birth of new swans each spring.

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We’ve had a young pair of swans for a little while now on this part of the canal around Fountainbridge (close to where the Union Canal finally terminates near the city centre), and we’ve been waiting to see if they would actually form a breeding pair and mate successfully. Earlier in the spring some friends alerted me to them building a nest – first time breeding for this pair, and they didn’t pick the best location (it is in quite a busy area, a more isolated part would be better, like the previous pair did). However, we were excited, then when we saw eggs in the nest, and mama swan (Cindy) brooding on them in April, we became excited – would we be seeing new cygnets in the near future?

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Well, yes, we did! A little over a week ago, my friend sent me a message to say the first egg had hatched – I had walked past there on the evening before and nothing had happened at that point, so the wee fella was born some time the next morning. He or she was born on the 99th birthday of the wonderful David Attenborough, so we decided to name it Attenborough! I was off that Thursday, so I walked up to the nest location to find several of my friends standing in the sunlight watching, and there was wee Attenborough, less than a day old, nestled up between mama and papa.

And then something even more remarkable – I noticed little Attenborough start moving along to the rear of his parents, something had his attention. It turned out to be the noise of an egg shell cracking – another sibling was being born right as we stood there, with wee Attenborough trying to help by pecking at the shell, then mama started too, and in a moment a little head, slicked by the gunk inside the egg, emerged, then its head flopped tiredly down.

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All these years I have taken photos of each year’s cygnets, but I have never actually seen one being born! What a magical moment to witness. These photos are literally capturing the first couple of moments of this small creature’s life on this planet. I couldn’t help but think I was watching something that has been happening for hundreds of millions of years – ninety million years back and this could have been a baby T-Tex or raptor emerging from its egg (birds, after all, are descended from the theropod dinosaurs), and here I was able to witness it and capture it on film to share.

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A week later and three eggs have now hatched, but sadly the remaining few have not, and given the last one to hatch was several days ago, and the mama has stopped sitting on them, it seems unlikely they are viable. However the three cygnets are now out with mum and dad (Cindy and Mr G), swimming around near the nest, and enjoying being fed (please, no bread! It’s not good for the birds or the canal – grains, sweetcorn, green leaves etc are best).

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So delighted to have these little miracles near us, and looking forward to taking more photos of them as they grow over coming months. And I still can’t get over seeing one actually hatching and entering the world (and on Attenborough’s birthday of all days!).

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Sakura Time

The annual miracle of spring returns, and with a burst of beautiful, bright, golden, spring sunlight, my chum and I decided to enjoy a Sunday promenade below the lines of cherry trees, now in full blossom. While there are plenty of such blossoms around the city, in the Meadows there are two avenues of them, creating a “tree tunnel” that you can stroll under, and as you can see, it’s a popular thing for many of us to do as spring finally exerts its dominance over the departing winter.

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This glorious little miracle happens every year, and every year I feel compelled to take some photos and share them again. After the dark, long, winter, it’s good for the soul to take in the light and the return of colours, those fabulous pinks against a clear, blue heaven above, just gorgeous.

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Of course, I took a monochrome shot too, despite the colours it was also just begging for a B&W snap too.

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Of course, I wasn’t the only one taking photos of it all!

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As ever, click the pics to see the full size versions on my Flickr stream.

Sunset Flight

Walking home alongside the Union Canal as dusk was falling on an autumn day, when I saw this flock of birds wheeling and turning, all in tight formation, just behind some tenements, circling and turning, lower on each pass. I barely had enough time to get a couple of very hurried photos before they dipped below the line of the buildings and out of sight, but what a lovely thing to come across on a stroll home, a little bit of natural magic.

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Wildlife

I took a long walk along the Water of Leith at the weekend with a chum. It’s always a delightful stroll – the river runs through the city, quiet paths, trees, running water, birdsong – essentially it offers up a countryside walk right in the city.

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This weekend’s stroll came with the added bonus of seeing a lordly heron, overseeing its kingdom, standing by the weir just below the back entrance to the Gallery of Modern Art. The few times I’ve been lucky enough to see a heron on the river before, they normally stand stock-still, just watching everything. This time, however, it started walking around, with that peculiar, long-legged gait, so I snapped more photos and some video (thankful again that my old but serviceable camera has a decent, big zoom lens to get a bit closer)

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