Not tame at all

I’ve loved old fashioned fairground carousels since I was three years old and got taken to see the steam fair that pitched up on the fields near our home.  The looming, gaudily painted creatures mounted on their shining poles were magnificent and other worldly and totally alive. Choosing one to ride was not to be taken lightly; the gorgeous colours were not enough to go by. Staring up at the faces of each fabulous beast I felt almost as if I was being chosen by the horse, and the sense of recognition when we found each other is surely something every child would understand. These horses are elemental beings; it really wouldn’t do to get the wrong one.

I still love carousel rides, but as an adult it feels different – tamer, and more nostalgic. There is still a sense of recognition when I find the horse I want to ride but they don’t feel quite so alive as they once did.  Their ornate beauty (as marvellous and fine as any Hindu temple carving) is wooden and oddly stilted; they are the product of a master artisan, nothing more.

And if you believe that, you’ll believe anything. I took my ride and then took some photographs, expecting to capture nothing more than the lurid, glossy creatures that most of us grown-ups see. But when I checked the pictures I found in some of them the carousel horses of my childhood galloping across the screen, wild and exhilarating and most certainly not tame at all.

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Brighton Birthday

It was R’s birthday this week and we set off for Brighton beach with a bottle of pink Champagne to celebrate. It was bright and cold and the shingle beach was dry enough to recline on, which we did while picnicking and quaffing our heady pink drink. Brighton fascinates me – known affectionately as “London on sea” for it’s urbane sensitivities, you would think that beyond the occasional gang of feral kids there is little wild about the place. However anywhere coastal cannot ever be completely tame, and there are some wildlife marvels to be had there by anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear. I’m saving my favourite wonder for a later post, and for now I hope you like my picture diary of what we got up to.

We stayed on the beach till dusk, watching the seagulls and surfers (not much surf, they were using paddles to get around!) and dogs and little kids. It had been an empty blue sky till the sun started to go down, when obligingly lots of dramatic clouds appeared. It was beautiful, especially as living in such a built up area I rarely get to see such an open sky.

Two fabulous things happen at dusk, and you want to be actually standing on the pier to get the most out of them. One is that the lights on the funfair come on, and in the half light once the sun’s gone down it looks its garish and trashy best.

The other is actually far more beautiful and exciting, and that is when the resident, many thousands strong flocks of starlings arrive to roost. I’ve tried several times to capture this in photographs and on film but it is impossible to do it justice. I’ve seen people run out of buildings in astonishment to watch as the screeching wheeling flocks descend like a tornado. Have no doubt that when I have enough material to even try and capture this I will be covering it properly.

I love Brighton Pier because it seems to have the best and worst of humanity written in big bright gaudy lights but the natural world has just as big a slice of the action, and the movements of those tiny birds upstages anything we mere humans could ever dream up.

Once the birds have installed themselves chattering and whistling beneath our feet on the structure below, what could be better than a ride on the carousel.  Those brightly painted horses might be made of wood but with the lights twinkling and the swirling movements of the ride they seem just as alive as any of us.

As I say I’ll be writing more about the starlings soon, so keep reading!

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