JLB!

When I was first married, my in laws were Beryl and Peter. Beryl worked in a local sports/school outfitters, and was a stalwart of the local community. Involved in local politics, the school, the church.

Peter was a nerd of the highest order. As a young man he had provided some technical assistance to the MoD in creating a nuclear weapon. In fact he had been transported by the Royal Navy to the South Seas to witness the device being used. I have a photo of the detonation.

Because he needed to be allowed access to the officers quarters on the ship, he was temporarily assigned as an officer on board. During the voyage the ship crossed the equator. If it is your first crossing of the equator (by sea?) then there is a traditional ceremony you have to undergo. I have documents showing the agenda, and also a large wooden cut throat razor that formed part of the ceremony.

There is also a lovely letter he sent back to his parents just as he was about to make his way back from Western Australia, in which he describes the journey, the hotel he's staying in, and a list of things, that may still have been rationed, that he was sending back in the post; tins of butter, jam, ham etc.

When he returned to the UK he worked for the BBC as an engineer before being tempted over to work for a new TV company in Manchester called Granada TV. He was number seven on the payroll. He stayed there until retirement.

Being a nerdy engineer he loved getting hold of new technology as soon as it was available so he could understand how it worked. Caroline told me how their family was the first in the area to have a colour TV set, which was a bit pointless as there were no colour TV programmes being broadcast at the time.

The first CD player I ever saw was in bits on the dining room table as Peter had dismantled it to have look at the innards.

While working for Granada, as a bit of a hobby, he developed a competitor sound reduction system to Dolby and installed it in independent cinemas in the north.

Over the years he collected all sorts of odds and ends of kits and what not. I have a box in the shed of film canisters. A reel of Xanadu (Olivia Newton John) which he used to test the sound systems he'd installed. A reel of Tommy, a newsreel of the moon landing, a short of Acker Bilk and his jazzmen. There is a sound tape which we don't have the technology to hear, which, family legend has it, is a recording of sputnik taken at Jodrell Bank in Cheshire as it flew across the sky.

I also have his Geiger counter, which I'm guessing may have travelled with him on his great voyage.

After he died we disposed of a great deal of stuff he'd acquired, but one piece was of historic interest. Vinten were an old company that made film cameras. Peter had one and always referred to it as the John Logie Baird Vinten. If you don't know, Mr Baird is generally credited with having invented television.

This is it. See the full page here.

We contacted the Bradford TV and Film museum and they confirmed that the camera we had was indeed one sold to Mr Baird - the serial number was the compelling evidence. We offered it to them and when they accepted they invited us to their mill in Black Dyke Mill in Yorkshire where their overspill area from Bradford was.

We were shown around and made to feel very important. It was a lovely day.

Beryl took the cheque, not very large, about £1000 if I remember correctly, and one of the first things she did was took us out for a meal. We filled our glasses and issued a cheer to "JLB!" (John Logie Baird) who had funded the meal. This was a habit we continued long after the money had been spent. Any meal was started with a toast to JLB.

A Most Wanted Man

If, like me, you are of an age, and were of an "indie" sensibility with respect to music in the late 1970's and early 80's, you would very likely pick up a copy of NME every now and then.

I remember buying an album entirely based on a review I read in NME one week. I had no idea who the band were or what the music was like, but the reviewer described the feeling listening to it was of sitting in a front room looking out into a drizzly saturday afternoon. You can hear it here YMG.

The album was Colossal Youth by the Young Marble Giants. It was fab. So fab I went to see them shortly after when they played Rafters on Oxford Street in Manchester. They played the album in full and when we bayed for more they apologetically said they didn't have any more. "Play it all again!" we bellowed. And so they did.

At that time would have been hard to pick up a copy of the magazine that didn't feature a photograph by Anton Johannes Gerrit Corbijn van Willenswaard, or Anton Corbijn as he was more snappily known. This links very nicely back to my gig night on Saturday as he was known for pictures he made with Joy Division.

A still from the video for Atmosphere. See the video here.

He also made some famous images with U2.

I love all that empty space on the right. I saw U2 at Salford Uni Student Union in 1981 (2?) supported by The Comsat Angels and Wall of Voodoo and they were brilliant. Not really a fan now, but they were really good in a relatively intimate venue.

What's brought all this to mind? This afternoon I decided to watch a film and Netflix suggested "A Most Wanted Man" directed by Anton Corbijn and starring Philip Seymour Hoffman (for whom I think I've expressed my man love in previous blogs). It's a spy film and I had seen it before and I loved it again. His films - and you should also see Control (about Ian Curtis and Joy Division) and The American (with George Clooney in Italy) - have a photographic sensibility, and also are very serene. I'd recommend all three.

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In January, for Gel's birthday, I 'bought' a couple of Friday nights in hotel/pubs with reputations for decent food.

Last month we went to The Mytton and Mermaid near Shrewsbury, and this last weekend we stopped at The Nags Head Inn at Pickhill near Thirsk. We set off in the morning and decided to spend the Friday in York, and explore Thirsk and the environs on the Saturday.

We arrived in York and decided to visit the Minster. We'd been to York a few times when Caitlin was an undergraduate (seems a lifetime ago now) but never went to the Minster. It was fab.

We had a free guided tour by David who gave us the history of the place and pointed out some odd architectural things we wouldn't have noticed on our own.

There were rehearsals for a concert later that evening which meant there was music drifting about for the whole time we were there.

The most chilled out statue I've seen.  Archbishop Badass taking it easy with some dancing cherubs.

One suggestion that our guide made was that we return around 5pm for evensong. As long as we stood up and sat down in the right places we didn't need to join in, but it was a lovely service to enjoy with a choir singing psalms, responses and prayers.

We took our life in our hands, hoped that we wouldn't be struck down by lightning, and, heathens that we, are returned in the afternoon for Evensong. And David was right, it was beautiful. Just about the right length, rather too much smiting down of non-believers, but beautifully sung smiting.

We then headed off to Pickhill near Thirsk for our B&B which was splendid. We were both a bit knackered and had filled up on roast pork sarnies in York so just had mains and a shared pud. We had a nice chat with the owner who had horse racing pictures on the wall - Nags Head? - which showed him as owner, trainer and jockey. Quite impressive was a photo of Frankie Dettori wearing colour with "Nags Head Pickhill" plastered across the front of his racing colours.

Breakfast the following morning was utterly wonderful, and, full as butchers dogs, we headed to Thirsk for the Saturday market which, if truth be told was a bit pants. Lovely little town, but poor market. Next we headed to North Allerton which our host the previous evening had recommended as the market was much better.

As we meandered about a thought struck me and I rang my mate Phil to find out if this was the home of the world famous Joe Cornish Gallery. It was. My memory wasn't playing tricks and we headed off to look in before we went home. How glad we were. A beautiful setting with stunning photographs, jewellery, ceramics and more.

Gel checking out a browser in the Long Gallery.

These Days

A friend of mine went to Fleetwood Grammar school in the early 1970's. In 1973, it was the turn of his year to organise a Spring dance, so he and his mates booked a band. The band were to receive the princely sum of £40 to appear.

Things were put into place for the event, but in feb 1973 a slight spanner was thrown in the works when the band suddenly appeared on Top of the Pops. Surely now they would be too big to schlep up to the Fylde for £40.

Luckily they honoured the deal, and that's how Queen played at the Fleetwood Grammar School dance in in 1973.

This friend of mine organised some tickets to see a band called Transmission last night at the Academy 3 (inside the Manchester Uni Students Union building on Oxford Road). The band play the music of Joy Division. Not a "tribute" band as they make no effort to look like the original members.

He had been in touch with the band as his previous attempt to see them - four years ago - ended when the gig was cancelled. He contacted them with his tale of woe, and asked if it was all right if he took some photos of the gig. Then he asked if I fancied going.

It was a bear/shit/woods situation as you well know I'll photograph anything.

I haven't done much gig photography, but what little I have done has made me wary. The lighting can vary from close to nothing, to huge whizz bang lighting rigs. When we entered the performance space we could see that there were - for a small space - a good set of lights both at the front and the rear of the stage area.

This meant there would be light, but with some behind the band it was going to be challenging. And so it proved.

On the way into town we - Andrew, Big Mark, Buddha and I - discussed how many people we expected in the audience. Not many was our guess, it being Easter and the students not being around. And the music being suited to old gits like us.

When we arrived at the venue, there was a massive queue, which confounded our expectations. Until that is one of the bouncers explained that there were three gigs on and the queue was for Cross Faith, a Japanese electro band.

As we went in the building we were challenged by security about taking cameras in. My mate confidently explained we were doing so with permission of the band. No problem then, you'll be on the guest list.......we weren't.

We managed to contact the band and voila, we were on the list. As we entered the venue we started taking pics of the support act and were approached by security explaining we'd be able to take pictures standing between the stage and the audience, but only for three songs.

Transmission came on, we were booted out of the photo pit after four songs and then watched the rest of the set and took a few sneaky pics from within the audience.

The lighting was LED and there was a mixture of colour. Certain colours produce weird effects and so to counteract that I've converted a few of the shots to mono. It eliminates some of the weirdness in the colour and also fits in with the feeling of the band (late 1970s punk). I've also spent some time editing out some of the rubbish in the background. The shots of the bass player were spoiled by a big green "Emergency Exit" sign right behind him. Spotlights and reflections off odd bits of kit have also been removed or reduced. The second shot below shows the problems with the lights at the rear of the stage getting in the way.

An other issue was the fact the band didn't move about much. There wasn't much showmanship. So once we'd taken four songs worth of shots, we'd probably done everything we could.

It was great fun, but standing around for the best part of three and a half hours has knackered me. A quiet Easter Sunday for me I think.

Taking pictures on a non-photo holiday - Florence Day 3

I like to think that, given an opportunity, I have a fair to middling chance of creating to decent image from it. Sometimes the opportunities can drop into your lap, but sometimes it can take a fair amount of effort and/or patience to get an image I'm pleased with.

So what's my approach to capturing images when I'm on holiday?

Well the first thing I need bring to the forefront of my mind is that these are family holidays and not Photo Workshops. I can take chances to capture some potentially interesting images, but should not do so at the expense of others on the holiday. That would defeat the object of the holiday.

I knew, going into our long weekend in Florence, that I was very unlikely to get that killer shot of the Ponte Vecchio of the Duomo or any other Florentine landmark. What I should do is concentrate on having a splendid time and making the best of whatever opportunities came my way. Maybe pick one thing I want to have a go at, and disappear for an hour or so on my own, if I can't shoehorn it into at "natural" part of the holiday.

I did take a tripod with me and did have one shot that I wanted to have a go at; the sun illuminating a Tuscan sky, reflected in the Arno with the Ponte Vecchio as the main subject.

As you saw in my first Florentine blog, I missed the only decent sunset as we taxied along the runway, thanks to Manchester Airport's pants de-icing resources.

This didn't stop me going out one tea time to try and collect an image.

Now I wasn't helped by the weather, which was just a bit meh, but also by my choice of lenses. This is another issue pertinent to "It's a holiday first". I can't take ALL my camera kit. This time I took two bodies and three lenses; 14mm (in case of wideness being required), 23mm (for everyday stuff), and 56mm (for a bit closer). I chose to leave my 35mm lens at home. This is a small and light lens, so don't ask me why I thought this would make much difference.

When I got to the viewpoint from which my Ponte Vecchio masterpiece was to be shot from I quickly realised that 14 and 23mm were too wide, and 56mm too long. The 35mm would have been ideal......

This juggling of lenses is all my own fault. For some reason when I moved to using Fuji cameras I decided to stick with 'prime' lenses, and not bother with zooms which were bound not to be as good. And were the work of the devil.....

Well, it turns out Fuji zooms are VERY good and my constant juggling of prime lenses brings me nothing but vexation.

Yesterday at the Photo Show I bought a 16-55mm Fuji zoom and hopefully put to bed this stupid approach I've adopted.

Now the final image is OK, but it isn't brilliant. "It'll do" as my Grandad used to say.

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Day three of our Florentine odyssey was meant to start with a visit to the Uffizi gallery but this meant an early start - the gallery opened about 8am - which our lovely comfy hotel bed made very difficult. By the time we got there, the queue stretched around the block, so instead we headed across the river to the Palazzo Pitti and went in there for free instead.

And, frankly, there was some weird shit on display.

The stuff of nightmares.

Nipple tweaking. Pain or pleasure?

We spent a good part of the morning wandering around the gallery, and when we exited we found that the weather had taken a turn for the worse. We took the opportunity to sit, have a coffee, and watch the world go by. As we did the weather got even worse with rain turning to hail, with thunder and lightning, and a bit of snow. It was this snow that set up the conditions for my favourite picture of the weekend.

As the snow started to fall, a little girl ran out into the courtyard of the gallery, and started to catch flakes. I reached for my camera, much to Gel's alarm ("You're not going to take pictures of a child are you?), and as it reached my eye, she had been joined by her dad who seemed to take as much pleasure from catching the snow as she did. This is the part of photography I like. No amount of preparation would have helped me get this image. Just my constant "Shark like" surveying of what's around me helped me out.

We sat out the storm, and then headed back to the hotel for our afternoon snooze. We went via the local supermarket and picked up some rather splendid snacks - cheese and spinach, and bacon pastries.

In the evening we headed back out for some tea and had a local delicacy, Bistecca Firenze, which, if truth be told was a little disappointing.

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The following morning we had a couple of hours to wander round the city again in the warm spring sunshine before setting off for the airport and, via Munich, back home. A really nice relaxing and fun weekend. I think both of us fell in love with a beautiful city and would go back in a heartbeat.

Way down south

In Birmingham
Way down south
In Alabam

Actually in Warwickshire, and this is the location of the National Exhibition Centre (NEC) which is the home of the Photography Show. I set off at the crack of dawn this morning (7:30), had a stop at Hilton Park services and arrived precisely on time.

The purpose of the show is to publicise new products and services for the photography loving public. I bought a couple of items - one for me, and one for a neighbour - but was sorely tempted by a show special price of £70 to buy a drone.....but I resisted.

Here are a few pics from the day

Re-enactors were brought in to provide targets for all us image-hungry togs.

Printing technology.

Talks

Hands on with new kit.

Demonstrations

Photo products

Piles of old tat for sale to raise funds for the Society of Disabled Photographers.

Andy Rouse bigging up the Canon EOS 1DX Mk II. I'd better start saving.

Magnum Photographer Bruce Gilden signing books.

Magnum Photographer Bruce Gilden doing a Q&A after showing us some of his photos. During the Q&A ha threatened to interact physically with somebody who asked a question "If I was twenty years younger I'd have punched you in the face"

Firenze - Day 2

Ok. I admitted in the last Florence blog that I can be a bit awkward with food. Not grumpy, or bad tempered, just slightly picky. But how is one meant to act when you order some food and it's not what you expect? There's nothing wrong with it, per se, but it's not what you expect.

Many years ago, if there was a special meal to be had with in my in-laws family, the eaterie of choice was The Pinewood hotel in Handforth. It made mealtimes special because they had things like waiters in tuxedos, they had a separate wine waiter, and a bloke playing the piano in the dining room. And fancy food.

One Sunday we rocked up and surveyed the menu, and there was something I saw which I hadn't noticed before and thought it sounded like it might be nice. Steak Tartare. What's not to like? It's steak, and, er, tartare sauce (isn't that usually what you have with fish and chips).

So I ordered it.

At this point my mum leaned over and asked if I realised I'd just ordered raw meat. 

So if she hadn't done that, and this beautifully created Steak Tartare had arrived, how would I have dealt with it? There'd have been nothing wrong with it other than me not knowing what it was. I couldn't send it back because it was faulty could I....? I may have enjoyed it. 

Hold that thought.

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On our first night in Florence we had really enjoyed simply wandering around this beautiful medieval city. Knowing that the State Art Galleries and Museums would be open for free on the Sunday (it being the first Sunday in the month) we thought we'd spend the day doing some more meandering.

After a rather splendid breakfast, we went up to have a look at the roof terrace. As you can see the weather looked pretty good. I left my coat and opted to go with a jacket and scarf. I thought I looked very Italian...tweedy jacket, flowery shirt, scarf, brogues......ciao!

Not bad, eh? That's lovely! The view isn't bad either. 

We then set out to explore the city. We went to the Duomo but it was packed, we went the New Market - "Mercato Nuovo". Don't you love it when they have a name like that for something is 4 or 500 years old.

In the Mercato Nuovo is a boar - Il Porcellino. It is lucky to touch his snout and drop a coin from his tongue. He's wearing well considering people have been touching him for nearly 400 years.

We then headed towards the river and the Ponte Vecchio. A famous bridge which used to contain craftsmen producing exquisite jewellery, and now is a tourist trap selling expensive watches and jewellery that looks like it's from a christmas cracker.

In the middle of the bridge is a statue and the now ubiquitous love locks attached to the railings. There is some historic tech to see though

A renaissance satellite dish. 

We then headed to the artisan quarter which, frankly, was cobblers.

Ha! See what I did there?

We wandered around for quite a while, taking in more meandering streets, and a couple of markets.

The weather was getting a bit poor, so we started back past the Ponte Vecchio towards our hotel. Continuing to enjoy the city.

Ponte Vecchio and Ufiizi with storm clouds brewing.

We picked up some scrummy pizza and took it back to the hotel.

After a rest we headed out for some tea and found another local Trattoria. Full of Americans it turned out. This was where I had my dining event.

The menu had many of the things you'd expect to see in a good Italian eating house, but I thought I'd try something a little, but not too, different. On the menu was something called Spaghetti with a red wine sauce - "Drunkhard spaghetti" it said helpfully. Ok, so it wasn't a wildly left field choice, but given the lasagne, and fettuccini also available I thought I'd give it a go.

Now I don't drink alcohol. This isn't for any sinister reason, I just stopped a few years ago and couldn't be bothered starting again. Even when I did drink I didn't like wine. So when my main meal arrived I was a little surprised to find a pile of spaghetti swimming in what was effectively red wine. What should I do? There was nothing wrong with the meal other than I didn't much care for it. I couldn't really send it back for technical reasons, so I battled through, and while disappointing, didn't ruin the holiday. Gave me something to write about, eh? Anything, no matter how bad, can be used for blog copy.

We left the trattoria and went for another walk. There was a big square close by and there was a deal of noise coming from it so we went to investigate. It turns out it was the start of a 13k night race, so we hung about and watched the start. This was 9pm.

Go!

We hung about for a bit, and then we headed back via our favourite gelateria and a well earned sleep.

I had a little nut tree, nothing would it bear

But a silver nutmeg, and a golden pear.

I'm sure my mother used to sing that to me as a baby. I only recall it now because I was out for my morning constitutional (I alternate between walking and riding, and my hips are barking) and I saw a Nuthatch skipping between the trees ahead of me.

I do love Nuthatches, like little masked highwaymen.

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There are 115,000 post boxes in the UK. There must be very few VR (Victoria Regina) boxes still being used.

The picture below shows a wall-mounted box - the first of the wall mounted design were erected in 1857 in Shrewsbury and Market Drayton. This one is in Chorley just outside Wilmslow (not to be confused with Chorley near Bolton). This design is a version of the second iteration with a rain hood to protect the mail from the inclement British weather. The full second design had a pedimented top, also to clear the rain. As you can see here, this has a flat top.

So today's wander gave me a Nuthatch and a Victorian wall-mounted post box.

#livingthedream

Florence

The other day I posed a question about whether or not I could include Uganda and Germany in my list of countries visited, even though I'd only every been briefly in an airport in those countries.

I had a sense that this was a bit of a nerdy question, but what I hadn't counted on was the level of nerdiness being raised by my own dear old dad who eMailed me to say that not only did he do this, but did so with the help of an Excel spreadsheet, with supporting data.....god help me. Now I know where I get it from.

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This is the last bit of a banana and chocolate loaf I made earlier in the week. It was rather splendid, even though I had forgotten to include one key ingredient. The recipe calls for softened butter, which I softened in the microwave, and then forgot all about.

I think I'm going to have to make this again, and this time use all the correct ingredients just to see what difference, if any, the butter makes.

What key ingredient have you left out of a recipe? Did it make much difference?

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Now I suspect that all of you reading this blog must see me as some incredible sophisticate. However, this isn't true. When it comes to being abroad, I'm more of a tourist than a traveller. I can be a little picky about food, and am not confident when thinking about eating in 'local' eateries.

Hotel bar.

On Friday after we'd arrived in Florence we checked into our hotel - The Plaza Hotel Lucchesi - and were pleasantly surprised. The hotel stands on the banks of the Arno and when we went to register, the lady behind the desk welcomed us and told us she'd upgraded us to a superior room with a river view. Good start. We went up to the room, unpacked, and after a wee rest set out to explore the locality.

Very quickly we realised how well positioned the hotel was. About five minutes walk from the Ponte Vecchio. After walking around for a while our thoughts turned to eating. Florence is a beautiful medieval city with narrow streets and bars, trattoria, shops at every turn. I decided to be a little more adventurous than usual and found a rather pleasing looking eatery, Fiaschetteria.

The place looked empty apart from a few locals sitting way in the back. I took the plunge and suggested we eat there. The owner brought us our drinks, and some garlic bread (to call it that is a sin, but it does describe it I guess) which was simple and tasty.

They had a couple of fixed menus and Gel and I had one each.

Salad, bruschetta, and lasagne for me.

Grilled aubergine, garlic bread and risotto for Gel.

Simple and very tasty. After paying, we went for a walk over towards the Uffizi where we came across a woman taking advantage of the accoustics and busking a bit of (I assume) opera.

We then made our way back to the hotel via a Gelateria and some rather splendid Florentine ice cream.

Although we were a bit narked about the delay in our flight, our short evening in Florence was splendid and I think we'd fallen in love with the city.

What's the worst flight experience you've ever had?

I'm sure I remember my Dad's mate Sam telling me once that he was on a DC-10 flying across the midwest US when a huge bang was heard and the plane's flight path became erratic. The plane managed land at Chicago and everyone on board was arrestedby the FBI, on the assumption that the "bang" was a bomb.

This was a time when DC-10's seemed to be dropping out of the sky with alarming regularity. Nobody could work out why. It turns out that there was a flaw in the cargo bay door which had been designed to open out, rather than in, to make more space in the cargo/baggage hold. There was a fault with the lock on the door, and when it failed, the catastrophic failure caused the controls to the tail to be cut and the planes simply dropped to the ground. This was one of the first to have the failure and not end up in a ball of flaming wreckage.

I don't want you to think this trip was as bad as that, but it didn't start well.

I'm not going to do a monster Florence blog, but break it up into manageable bites. This one discusses the travel to and from Firenze (as the locals have it). I've titled this blog "worst experiences" because our 08:40 flight from Manchester - the first leg of the journey - didn't actually leave the terminal building until after 12:30.

We arrived at the airport in plenty of time, checked our bags in, and went through security and looked for breakfast. On the journey to the airport we had discussed with the taxi driver - apart from the standard "Are you busy" and "What time did you start/ will you finish?" questions which are mandatory on any taxi ride - the weather. It was cold and clear but I'm sure he muttered something about snow being forecast. Knowing what sort of winter we've had, I snorted derisively.

While we were having breakfast I looked out of the terminal window and...

So it was snowing. As you can see there was a dusting on the plane (the one shown here wasn't ours) but none sticking on the ground. In the background you can see a plane has just landed. So it wasn't going to be a problem.

We boarded our plane on time, and everyone stowed their hand luggage, sat down, fastened their seatbelts and there was the low hubbub of people looking forward to the journey.

After a while it became clear that we weren't about to take off as there had been no safety announcement and we'd passed the 08:40 take off time. The captain came on the PA and explained that we couldn't take off. Not because of conditions on the runway, or in the air but because we needed to be de-iced. He would update us later.

Sitting next to me was a Jewish chap who was on his way home to Zurich, and was very kind and helpful. When he realised we were going to miss our connection, he used his iPhone app to work out what our options would be. He also shared some of the food he'd brought on board. Very nice they were too.

This did not go down well, and the stag party sitting near us - who were only out of the country for 48 hours - were starting to get twitchy that they'd be late for their onward transport from Zurich. They chilled out a bit once the cabin crew started dispensing drinks (beer in their case), and one of them put on some party music.

The captain came on again and explained that Manchester Airport didn't have many de-icing trucks and that one, or more, had broken down. We were number 18 in the queue and each plane took about 45 minutes to de-ice. General unhappiness, especially when the stag party found out that the beer had run out and the crew were reluctant to sell them wine or champagne.

The captain came on again and explained - and this was a bit confusing - that he'd got a private company to come and de-ice the plane ahead of the Airport-owned ones (I guess). Does this mean he "bribed" the airport de-icers? Or are there private de-icing companies who hang around the airport in the hope of a bit of business? "£1000 to de-ice your plane mate, or £500 cash in hand"

The plane next to us being de-iced.

Anyway, we eventually pushed back from the stand (I hope you see all the technical language I'm using) and headed off for takeoff just after 12:30. We'd missed our connecting flight by a couple of hours.

We landed at Zurich and headed for the Transfer Desk having been told we'd been booked on the next flight to Florence at 17:15. I joined the queue and by this time was starving so asked gel to source me a butty.

I ate the butty in the queue, got my new boarding cards and was given a voucher to buy another butty.....d'oh!

One can spend a lot of money in Zurich airport if one wants.

Our transfer was sorted, we went to the gate and boarded the next part of our journey, and this time I bagsied the window seat. I LOVE looking out of the window when I'm on a plane. It's not because I'm scared and gives me comfort, I just love looking out of the window.

I'm also an inveterate taker of pictures from the window, even though experience has demonstrated that it's impossible to take decent pics from a plane. The one exception to this is a picture taken by my friend Keith, but he has the advantage of driving the plane, and can probably open the window for a better shot.

Here are a couple of duffers from the ZUR - FLR flight.

Taking off with Zurich below.

The Alps.

As you can see from the last picture above, there was a beautiful sunset as we approached Florence which narked me somewhat. I had planned out what we'd do on our first afternoon on Florence and it ended by dropping Gel off for a rest before tea and me taking evening shots of the Ponte Vecchio with - hopefully - a flaming red sky reflected in the Arno. Well this sunset happened, as do all the great sunsets, while I was in a car/train/bus or in this case plane. The two other evenings were dull as a dull thing, although this didn't stop me trying to get a shot (see later blog).

Anyway, we were now (eventually) in Florence, and our adventure could begin.

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P.S. I have just sent off my request for compensation to Swiss Air. I'll let you know how that goes.