Waiting at a cross roads...

A day in the life of people I see on my commute.

                           

Hot cakes!

After reforming in 2011 the world has waited in anticipation for a new album from The Darkness. Since their 2005 hit album One way ticket to hell and back, the band has taken a break in order to pursue solo ventures. Despite the long break this album picks up exactly where they left off. Musically very similar to previous offerings, the album relies heavily on the piercing vocals of lead singer Justin Hawkins.

The band will be touring South Africa later this year, opening for Lady Gaga on the Cape Town leg of her born this way tour.

The first single off the album:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEhgNW-l2Ys

The scum of the earth

All Journalists are scum. At least according to a lovely lady I met the other day...

For those who don't yet know, I Au pair two young lads in the upmarket area of Sandton and one of my responsibilities is coercing them to go to swimming practice twice a week. My job ends once they are bundled into the pool and then my own personal horror begins.

You see their is very little to do at the side of a swimming pool - its why we drink so much waiting for our water polo games. Unfortunately Planet Fitness disapproves of this practice and so I am forced to endure 45 minutes of 'polite' conversation with Sandton mummies. 

It usually centers around two topics. Either how well their kids are doing in all aspects of life (having no kids myself it tends to be a rather one sided topic) or how terrible their child's particular school is. Having gone to a great school I struggle to relate to this and generally tend to suggest they send 'Precious' to boarding school. Hey, it worked for Spud.

Yesterday one of the mummies was telling me how her two young charges had been at O.R Tambo to welcome back the SA Olympic team and how terribly they had been treated by the Journalists trying to get pictures of the athletes. 

As far as I could determine, someone had stepped on her child's foot in the melee and this constituted a gross violation of media practice (or something even more insane). Anyway I let her rant fizzle out before informing her that I was in fact a journalist. And judging by her child's attempt to coordinate her breaststroke she probably stepped on her own foot.

We were at Oppi this past weekend and saw some amazing bands. But one of the highlights for me was running into a Photo-Journo who has already cut her teeth in the industry. She did her masters in war journalism (how cool) and her blog is here:

vsmeets.wordpress.com

Juggling on Oxford

Travelling through Sandton, one can not help but be impressed by the quality of busking on show. It was on the corner of Oxford and Corlett Drive that I came upon this gem of a man. Clearly already a master juggler, when I first approached him he was attempting to juggle and ride a unicycle - with hilarious consequences. Setting down the bike for a second he agreed to an impromptu photo shoot. 

In no time the bike was back out and I was treated to a lesson in the finer art of balancing what-was-not-designed-to-be-balanced. Ten minutes and a bruised pelvis later I realised that I was not cut out for this profession.

Along with the tarmac in my side, I was left with a memory to treasure from our city. The mans enthusiasm for what he does as well as a willingness to engage with a complete stranger is what is captured in this image. And one that shall be remembered by me every time I drive through the streets of Illovo. 

The watering hole

Sport has always been an important part of my life. I have also always had a special affinity for water sports in general. This photo was taken at Victoria Lake Club where I paddle and is one of the places where I feel most at home.

The sense of family within a club is also important and the picture from within the bar looking out is an expression of this. The bar forms the social center of the club but is not the most important aspect. This can be seen from the reflection of the water in the mirror.

The first image was taken late in the day with the sun behind me. The shutter speed was set to 1/50 of a second with a wide aperture. The second was with the same aperture and a 1/2 second shutter speed to compensate for the lack of light within the club house.

Walk to paradise garden



William Eugene Smith was an American photo-journalist most known for the vivid images he took during the second World War. He worked for both Newsweek as well as Life Magazine. Working as a correspondent during the Pacific phase of the war, Smith was injured by mortar fire. Unable to handle a camera he was forced to take a break from photography.

The iconic image of his two children walking into a forest clearing was one of the first he took after recovering from his injuries. It forms a stark contrast to some of his more gruesome images.

An image that I happened to take in a similar style to that of Walk to paradise garden occured while hiking the otter trail last year. Coming towards the end of a long days walk, it was an immense relief to leave the forested trail and relax beside the sea.

Having spent most of the day within the shades of the forest mainly taking pictures of birds, my camera was set to a high ISO and fast shutter speed. 

Crushed beliefs - London '12

The South African woman's soccer team has not had the best of starts to their Olympic campaign. They lost their opening round match to the Swedish team tonight. The result isn't a huge surprise based on Banyana's underdog status in the tournament. The match did  however challenge a few traditional ways of thinking.

Mainly my belief that all Swedish woman are hot. Having lost interest in the soccer quite early on(three nil down after twenty minutes will do that to you) I pulled out my notepad and began the complex process of choosing my personal 'Swede of the match'. 

I won't go into detail but suffice to say 'ability to kick a soccer ball' is not one of the requirements.

Having started with a full squad of eighteen I soon worked my way down to just a handful of peroxided lasses. The sea of yellow started playing havoc with my eyes, I developed tunnel vision and a severe migraine. But I would not admit defeat. I toiled for most of the second half but to no avail.

I was finally forced to conclude that their is not a single noteworthy 'belter' in the entire Swedish squad. Using this data as an accurate and reliable cross cultural demographic of Swedish woman one can extrapolate some shocking results. They are a nation of pale giants with crew cuts.

As the reality of this situation sank in I felt like a young child on their eleventh birthday. Having just missed the Hogwarts express... and being told that it doesn't exist. What is next? The Swedes don't believe in having a team masseuse?

While my whole belief system slowly crumbled  apart around me I barely registered a consolation Banyana goal. 

The match ended 4-1 to Sweden.

Note: An image search prior to publishing this article revealed that all observations are completely inaccurate. Except the final score of course.