theonlyD800inthehameau
Photography by theonlydeadheadinthehameau
The centrepiece
Posted on May 18, 2022
This is a detail from the centrepiece of a quilt that was shown at an Expo in Nantes a few years ago. It is to all intents and purposes entirely made up of squares and triangles.
Edges Galore
Posted on April 26, 2022
Plenty of edges on view here, in the wall in my daughter’s back garden.
The weir at Chabanais
Posted on April 20, 2022
The River Vienne encounters a weir as it flows through the village of Chabanais.
Tree Rings
Posted on April 13, 2022
This log from my stash for the wood-burning stove had an intriguing pattern of rings if you looked at it closely enough.
The woodburner
Posted on April 6, 2022
We thought we might have been finished with our woodburning stove until the autumn, but a recent cold snap led us to resort to it again.
Tracks in the earth
Posted on March 30, 2022
After a lot of heavy rain earlier in the month, the past week or so has been warmer and sunnier (it won’t last). This has helped to dry out the previously sodden ground, but nonetheless there is still ample evidence in the surrounding fields of the passage of farm tractors through the mud.
Send in the clean-up team
Posted on March 23, 2022
Sheep markets are held regularly in our local village. They take place on the Rue du Marché Ovin (it means…er, ‘Sheep Market Road’). When I was recently mooching around the metal pens I had obviously just missed one.
In the circumstances, you can’t really blame the sheep for being nervous, I suppose.
Crossing the Forth
Posted on March 16, 2022
Driving north on the new(ish) Queensferry Crossing over the River Forth.
Not ‘The Ring’
Posted on March 2, 2022
I was playing around in Lightroom with an otherwise ho-hum photograph of a clump of trees in the Beecraigs Country Park in central Scotland and came up with this slightly unsettling image that reminded me a little of the 2002 horror film ‘The Ring’.
Alma mater
Posted on February 16, 2022
This is one of the many fine, typically Scottish stone buildings that form the estate of St Leonard’s School in St Andrews, my daughter’s eye-wateringly reassuringly expensive boarding school all those years ago.
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