It has been the most fantastic day.
In the end we set off at around midnight last night, and stopped after an hour.
This was fine, because we had made good progress with the journey and were somewhere dark and rural and probably in Yorkshire.
We didn’t put the heater on, which we regretted this morning when neither of us wanted to get out of bed to make coffee. Mark did it in the end, because he always does, and after a while we got dressed and set off through the misty Yorkshire morning.
It was a nice journey, partly because we never need to worry about getting stuck behind people when we are in the camper van, we are the vehicle that you dread seeing in front of you on the horizon when you are in a hurry. We have got a top speed of about fifty, which gives us plenty of time to look at the world, which was lovely this morning, copper and bronze just starting to colour the trees and hedges, and houses of gorgeous old stained yellow stone, and the morning skies soft shades of grey and faint pink.
We travelled down through Bradford, which was an ace adventure because I have never been to Bradford, and would have liked to have stopped and seen more, so actually we diverted ourselves there on the way back, and I am writing from there now.
Of course you don’t really want to know about Bradford, you want to know about our ace adventure with the photography.
For those who don’t know, a friend of ours, or maybe more accurately a friend of Numbers One and Two Daughters, who is studying photography, put a few words on Facebook asking for volunteers to have their photographs taken. Preferably couples and definitely naked.
Obviously I volunteered. I can’t see how anybody with half a sense of adventure could do anything else, which is how we found ourselves headed for Nottingham and the photographic studio.
We parked in a very handy space right outside the college, and our photographer friend came to meet us and drink coffee in the camper van.
We haven’t seen Tommy since he was about sixteen, and he is about thirty now, and has become about a foot taller and broader across the shoulders in the intervening years. It was absolutely ace to see him, as if no time had passed at all, and yet he has become a grown up since we saw him, and is getting on rather splendidly with his life.
He explained the project to us, which is about texture and difference. He is photographing several people for it, of different ages and races and shapes, all moodily lit in black and white, and it sounds brilliant, I would love to see it when it is done.
We exchanged stories for about an hour, and then it was time to go over to the studio.
There is a rather strange feeling about it, Tommy messed about with the lights and unrolled an enormous spool of black paper to be a backdrop, and we sat around and waited for the inevitable moment when we would have to get undressed. This is a very peculiar moment, I can tell you.
Fortunately, and to my relief, he stuck some black paper over the window in the door, and then locked the door, which turned out to be a good idea because only moments later somebody banged on it wanting to borrow some chairs.
After that the moment could not be put off any longer, and we self-consciously peeled off our clothes.
Tactfully, he had arranged that the first shot would be of our backs. This was an obviously good idea, and gave us chance to try and think about something other than being in a photographic studio without any clothes on, and after a few pictures everybody relaxed.
I must have been relaxed, because it didn’t dawn on me until afterwards that I had forgotten to do anything presentational like try and hold my stomach in, in order to minimise the round sagginess that troubles me occasionally when I look in a mirror. Actually it was all so strange and absorbing that I didn’t think at all about the way I might be looking. You need a mirror for that, and fortunately there wasn’t one.
He took lots of photographs, starting off with our shoulders and backs, and then some pictures of us hugging, and laughing, and with arms around one another’s shoulders.
By the end I had even forgotten to be self conscious, and by the time we were getting dressed we felt quite celebratory and pleased with ourselves.
We all went for a late lunch and a joyful bottle of wine after that, at what apparently is the oldest pub in England, which was a splendid dark little place built into the rock face, and is half cave inside.
Number Two Daughter rang whilst we were eating, which was nice. It is mildly amusing to be in the inverse position of being grown up and being lectured by our children telling us we must not upload naked pictures of ourselves on to social media. I think this would be a brilliant idea.
We haven’t seen any of the pictures yet, so I may change my mind when I do, but we will cross that bridge when we get there.
We had an ace time. We staggered back to the camper and fell instantly asleep, from the excitement of the whole day.
After that we went to Bradford, for a very splendid goodnight curry, which was brilliant, and we are there still, as the story goes.
What an ace day.
