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All papers, inks and mount-board materials are of conservation grade.
All papers, inks and mount-board materials are of conservation grade.
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You're bursting for a cuppa yourself, but you
find a young Indian family with kids are in the
way of your perfect shot. So you diplomatically
move them for as short a time as possible and
with profuse apologies, but you don't leave until
you have the picture you want (they can come
back anytime, you're never likely to come back
at all). Getting the shot in this case also meant
re-arranging the kettles slightly. Meanwhile,
your tea's gone cold because, downstairs, you
find another picture you'd like to get (see elsewhere on this site), one that's a bit more
complicated so now you're in everybody's way... And so it goes on. Back home, you spend
hours carefully cloning out the unwanted pipes running through the middle of the picture
before you're happy with it. It's a wonder hospitals don't have a special ward for starving
and dehydrated photographers. Actually, in Britain they do, it's called the pub, and despite
them closing down at a rate of knots, there's always one somewhere with a medicinal brew
on tap...
This picture is of the upstairs of a teashop off the main street in Kochi, not far from the
fascinating Chinese fishing nets and opposite a cloth emporium where they'll sell you
armfuls of cotton whilst swearing blind that it's silk (the stuff they show you will be silk, the
stuff you walk away with won't be!) But you don't care really, it was so cheap and the con
was perpetrated with such charm and artistry that you almost forgive them.
You're bursting for a cuppa yourself, but you find a young Indian family with kids are in
the way of your perfect shot. So you diplomatically move them for as short a time as
possible and with profuse apologies, but you don't leave until you have the picture you
want (they can come back anytime, you're never likely to come back at all). Getting the
shot in this case also meant re-arranging the kettles slightly. Meanwhile, your tea's gone
cold because, downstairs, you find another picture you'd like to get (see elsewhere on
this site), one that's a bit more complicated so now you're in everybody's way... And so it
goes on. Back home, you spend hours carefully cloning out the unwanted pipes running
through the middle of the picture before you're happy with it. It's a wonder hospitals
don't have a special ward for starving and dehydrated photographers. Actually, in
Britain they do, it's called the pub, and despite them closing down at a rate of knots,
there's always one somewhere with a medicinal brew on tap...
This picture is of the upstairs of a teashop off the main street in Kochi, not far from the
fascinating Chinese fishing nets and opposite a cloth emporium where they'll sell you
armfuls of cotton whilst swearing blind that it's silk (the stuff they show you will be silk,
the stuff you walk away with won't be!) But you don't care really, it was so cheap and
the con was perpetrated with such charm and artistry that you almost forgive them.
You're bursting for a cuppa yourself, but you find a
young Indian family with kids are in the way of your
perfect shot. So you diplomatically move them for
as short a time as possible and with profuse
apologies, but you don't leave until you have the
picture you want (they can come back anytime,
you're never likely to come back at all). Getting the
shot in this case also meant re-arranging the kettles
slightly. Meanwhile, your tea's gone cold because,
downstairs, you find another picture you'd like to
get (see elsewhere on this site), one that's a bit more complicated so now you're in everybody's
way... And so it goes on. Back home, you spend hours carefully cloning out the unwanted pipes
running through the middle of the picture before you're happy with it. It's a wonder hospitals
don't have a special ward for starving and dehydrated photographers. Actually, in Britain they
do, it's called the pub, and despite them closing down at a rate of knots, there's always one
somewhere with a medicinal brew on tap...
This picture is of the upstairs of a teashop off the main street in Kochi, not far from the
fascinating Chinese fishing nets and opposite a cloth emporium where they'll sell you armfuls
of cotton whilst swearing blind that it's silk (the stuff they show you will be silk, the stuff you
walk away with won't be!) But you don't care really, it was so cheap and the con was
perpetrated with such charm and artistry that you almost forgive them.

The kettles of Kerala

See the 'Before and After' images
End of black & whites Go to: World section, Suffolk section Britain section or
Abstracts
When you're bursting for a cuppa yourself and you find a young Indian family with kids are in the way of your perfect shot, you displace them for as short a time as possible and with profuse apologies. But you don't leave until you have the shot you want (they can come back anytime, you're never likely to come back at all). Getting the shot in this case also meant re-arranging the kettles slightly.  Meanwhile, your tea's gone cold because, downstairs, you find another shot you'd like to get (see elsewhere on this site), one that's a bit more complicated and in everybody's way... And so it goes on. It's a wonder hospitals don't have a special ward for starving and dehydrated photographers. Actually, in Britain they do, it's called the pub, but it doesn't happen anywhere else.This picture is of the upstairs of a teashop off the main street in Kochi, not far from the fascinating Chinese fishing nets and opposite a cloth emporium where they'll sell you armfuls of cotton, swearing blind that it's silk (the stuff they show you will be silk, the stuff you walk away with won't be!)  But you don't care really, it was so cheap and the con was perpetrated with such charm and good humour that you forgive them. Almost. Back home, you spend hours carefully cloning out the unwanted pipes running through the middle of the picture before you're happy with it. It's not a great shot, but it looks good on the kitchen wall.
You're bursting for a cuppa yourself, but you find a young Indian family with kids are in the way of your perfect shot. So you diplomatically move them for as short a time as possible and with profuse apologies, but you don't leave until you have the picture you want (they can come back anytime, you're never likely to come back at all). Getting the shot in this case also meant re-arranging the kettles slightly.  Meanwhile, your tea's gone cold because, downstairs, you find another picture you'd like to get (see elsewhere on this site), one that's a bit more complicated so now you're in everybody's way... And so it goes on. Back home, you spend hours carefully cloning out the unwanted pipes running through the middle of the picture before you're happy with it. It's a wonder hospitals don't have a special ward for starving and dehydrated photographers. Actually, in Britain they do, it's called the pub, and despite them closing down at a rate of knots, there's always one somewhere with a medicinal brew on tap...

This picture is of the upstairs of a teashop off the main street in Kochi, not far from the fascinating Chinese fishing nets and opposite a cloth emporium where they'll sell you armfuls of cotton whilst swearing blind that it's silk (the stuff they show you will be silk, the stuff you walk away with won't be!)  But you don't care really, it was so cheap and the con was perpetrated with such charm and good humour that you almost forgive them.



 
Simple stylish picture in a simple stylish plain black frame

Simple stylish picture in a simple stylish plain black frame

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