parkinsons

There we were by Jacqui Booth

Well, there's a thing.

I never added the photos from my trip to Cornwall to my website.

It all seems so long ago.

The photo of the astounding view from the master bedroom came up on Facebook memories on Saturday morning...and I wonder how it could have been just a year ago, and writing now...well, it could be a decade.

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It was one hell of a trip.  Come to Cornwall, Tim said.  I was newly qualified to drive, and more than ready to take advantage of the situation. I booked a motorway driving lesson and secured the use of my then partner's car...packed a bag, made a flask of coffee and set off.

I vividly remember arriving. Tim emerged out of the night and plonked himself into the passenger seat. He was so out of breath and nearly soaked to the skin. I felt terrible that he'd had to come out and was obviously worried for his health. The weather was horrendous. It was pitch black. He guided me to our digs, a way-too-beautiful-for-the-likes-of-me house, encouraging me to take it slowly. It was only later that I learned that I was basically driving along a dirt track on a cliff edge.  I dumped my bags and we got soaked on the way to the pub for 'supper'.  Then he blooming well woke me up with tea at sunrise! To be fair, watching the light dappling the ocean was wonderful.

It was pretty damn thrilling to be able to make my way to some of my favourite places under my own steam, and to take Tim with me as a bonus. He does astonishingly well to be dragged around the countryside by me. Lanyon Quoit is a favourite of mine and made a striking setting for Tim. I was able to vaguely revisit an idea I'd had for our first shoot. I wanted to catch a sort of childish innocence, though doing this whilst watching out for the arrival of new tourists kinda meant that taking time to perfect the shot, as well as having Tim laid on a cold rock in November detracted from this!  We also headed to Madron Well, a place I innocently stumbled upon perhaps fifteen years ago.  Sadly, I'd worn him out by the Men-au-tol which was a shame, but he graciously gave me the time to run from the car up the track and spend a few exhilarating minutes there.  My Men-au-tol moment, if you like.

Anyway, as Tim says in his more timely account of events, we had a damn good few days.  I still think about them with amazed fondness. We talked. We talked a lot about many things. He spent a very long time finding ways to help save my relationship with the father of my children. He really did try. The relationship lasted about three month months more then we split for good. That's not to say that Tim failed. His intelligent, endlessly kind and well considered words stay with me.

And so things have been necessarily forgotten, buried, neglected. Domesticity has overwhelmed me. But strange things happen. I've met a man who has insisted that today I leave what I'd identified as my new priorities behind and pick up where I inadvertently left off all those years ago...except it's twelve months. Twelve tiny months.



All my published Tim pics, both alone and with Al Brydon, can be gandered at here.

Week 21: The Holga and Naked Tim by Jacqui Booth

Hmm, where to start with this one?  Well, I’ll try from the beginning and keep it brief.  At some point nearly two years ago, I was browsing through Twitter and Tim Andrews (who happens to have Parkinsons and was well into his Over the Hill project at the time) had posted something interesting from another photographer, which I ‘liked’ and might even have commented on.  I knew of him through a mate, but wasn’t going to slavishly follow for that reason, because I was awkward back then.  Fortunately, Tim followed me. ‘Did I take photos?’ he said.  Yes, I said, and sent him a link to flickr and instagram.  ‘Would I like to photograph him?’ he said.

“Oh my shitty christ” I thought.

BUT – I was on a mission to do the very things that scared me. And this did scare me.  I was nervous.  I didn’t really take photos of people. But my mate Al badgered me until I’d set a date (this took a while) and encouraged the heck out of me.  We went for walks and talked.  It would be okay.

Al and I, by Tim Andrews. I’m the taller one.

Al and I, by Tim Andrews. I’m the taller one.

Meanwhile, I went through Al’s big book of photos which he’d foolishly lent out a year or two back.  I still had it and was devouring every page.  Notes were made.  You see, everyone seemed to photograph Tim naked and I thought it was a cop out.  I wanted to just take a bloody good photo of him without the “Ooo, he’s got his willy out” shock value.  But, to be fair, as we settled into the studio, started to talk and I began to wrap his hands in yarn, the clothes…well, they just had to go.  They were in the way.

And so, my family and friends learnt of Naked Tim, so called because I know too many Tim’s and it became hard to differentiate.  Though as it happened, the photo we chose from the first day was clothed and was shown at Goldsmiths College in November 2015.  I wasn’t there.  I was watching a baby emerge from my sister.

Anyway, the moment Tim learnt that I knew the legendary Al Brydon (aka my twit of a mate) he decided that a joint shoot should occur.  Hence more wandering through the hills and valleys of the Peak District with Al whilst we decided what the hell we were going to do.  At the time, second ‘Tim shoots’ were rare, so we were a bit chuffed.  Little did we know that this would lead to shoot three.  This is the fourth and was almost wholly on film in honour of 52rolls.  Tim posed, Al and I bickered happily, we both bought along equipment, I developed the film and Al proved that he was better at processing it in Lightroom or whatever than me.

Pocket Al and Pocket Tim, perched on a Holga

It became a terribly soggy and wet day in the Peaks, and for me it had started off quite stressfully, but it was so comfortable and absorbing just making the photos together that I forgot to be worried and just enjoyed their company.  That kind of thing is important to me.

Outtakes:

Previous Tim pics on my website

Tim’s version of events…
I can help you out

The first time:
My time has come

The second time
Three is not a crowd
Special Offering
Helpless

The third time
Silent Song

This blog was first published on 52rolls.net