Notes Of An Uninteresting Event

One of my first jobs was working as a porter in the Cork Regional Hospital, helped by my mum, who worked on the switchboard, or “Switch,” and knew the head porter at the time. I remember starting during weekends in November or December 1999 whilst I attended college on the weekdays, but revenue records show that I officially started on the 2nd of February, 2000. Anyway, with zero training, I would ‘special’ people primarily in the GF unit (a ward for those experiencing brain injuries) or other wards of the hospital, which involved staying with patients all night so they wouldn’t move from their beds, etc. Oftentimes, it involved restraining them, and being 18 at the time, I had no idea what I was doing and regularly relied on the trained nursing staff on the ward. One person I sat with from 8 PM to 8 AM was Danny Walsh, who had been in a car crash in Cork back in 1999 when he was 16. He suffered severe head injuries, from which he has not recovered, and for those who are from Cork, today you’d see him around the city. I eventually transferred to work in the Accident and Emergency Department on the 9:30 PM to 2:30 AM shift on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays before I finished in the hospital. It was an experience I will always remember for both good and bad reasons (e.g., being present in Resus, seeing seriously injured people, and dead bodies at a young age).

When I was visiting a friend in the hospital recently, I came across one of the trolleys from the A&E department. It used to be my job to push, direct, and manhandle these trolleys with patients of all shapes and sizes, and clean them every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday when I worked there. I remember being able to get patients quickly to the X-ray department, if we were super busy, by almost using the trolley as a scooter (one foot pushing while my other foot was standing on the frame). There’s a foot lever on each wheel to lock the two front or back wheels in place, so I’d lock the wheels at the front so I could drift into and out of corners. They were heavy, so the pop-up handles were handy when a patient was on board. All that weight was in the base, so it lowered the center of gravity, and because they were narrow, there was no risk of toppling over. Seeing that trolley reminded me of how fun it was working there, the people I met, and with the department being un-recognisable today after undergoing renovations over the past 25 years, it was nice to reminisce.

Last week, a work trip took me to San Francisco, and for the first time, I experienced the 11 hour flight in business class. Spoiler, it was underwhelming to say the least. While in California, I worked, enjoyed the sun on my day off, got to try an ‘In-N-Out’ burger, and walked around our head office in stunned silence.

On the evening I’d flown in I got a burger from the 75-year-old Californian fast-food chain, In-N-Out Burger, that a colleague of mine had hyped up so much before boarding our flight from DUB to SFO, meant that I was expecting great things. I sampled the regular burger with fries from their eatery on Newhall Drive in San Jose. The burger was okay, and only because we’re so spoiled for great food, great burgers here in Cork. Instead, it reminded me of those burgers you’d get from a van at a GAA match or gig that just hits because you’ve drunk alcohol and need to line your stomach. The establishment itself, on the other hand, was proper Americana, with young people in paper hats and white polo shirts making hundreds of meals and shouting out completed orders over a tannoy to the awaiting public, ‘Order 95 please!’. It was a good experience, but I’d choose Bunsen, MK Burger, or Dacent Munch over the Californian chain.

San Francisco, on the Saturday was lovely and the beautiful California sun was very welcome on my very pale (factor 50 covered) Irish skin. The harbour, the Bay Bridge, the city skyline, the streets, the hills, Chinatown, and the Apple Store Union Square were all a treat. The famous fog had rolled in on Saturday morning that I took the Caltrain from San Jose, obscuring the view of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge, making me miss a photo opportunity. I was not dismayed though because the walk through Chinatown with its vibrant colours and people was a feast for my iPhone’s camera. I headed through the Stockton Street Tunnel to the Apple Store, where I got to experience the architectural marvel with its 12.8-meter sliding glass doors that opened the entire store to Union Square, and there were a few Vision Pros on display too, my first time seeing them.

On the last day of my trip, a group of us went to the Apple Visitor Center in Cupertino to buy some merchandise. I went up to the viewing platform to see if I could catch a glimpse of the spaceship among the trees off North Tantau Avenue. It was well hidden, so I needed to take a close look. Our group was escorted by our hosts through the reception center into the lush gardens with the ring building at its center. I spent the 90 minutes we were allotted slowly circumnavigating along the outside walkway, and watching the giant sliding doors closing the cafe to the outside. I then went through to the center area to walk on the thick grass that felt like I was sinking into it, and toward a rainbow in the middle. It was truly an experience I will remember.

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Listening to the Fontaines D.C. song “A Hero’s Death” the other day, and this line from the lyrics, “Tell your mother that you love her,” made me reflect on how infrequently, or even how rarely, I would say “I love you” to my mum. In that moment, while sitting at work, I couldn’t understand why I had not ended every call or visit over the years with those three words. That has been one of a million things on my mind after my mum had her first treatment last week, with two more sessions in the next few weeks, followed by surgery in the summer.

I have been calling her more frequently to see how she is feeling, visiting her at home, and now every time I make sure when I leave or hang up the phone, that I say “I love you” because I want her to know how much I do.

Tell your mother that you love her ❤️

There has not been a lot of movement in our surrogacy journey in the last six months. Although, since early March, we now have embryos and it was great to feel we were making progress. But it was short lived after we received the final count following the PGS or genetic testing we had done on them. My husband and I have needed to console each other, and on top of this, we have yet to find a surrogate to support us. Things feel like they are going nowhere, and it’s tiresome to stay positive whilst simultaneously trying to will the universe into giving us a break. I just wish the wind would pick up soon and take us away from this place.

My go-to confectioneries are a purple Snack, a package of BBQ Beef Hula Hoops, and a bottle of Tanora. I’d happily buy all if I’m passing a shop or purposefully pop to get them if the universe is throwing a few too many lemons my way. They have been my second, third, and fourth place comfort food, behind toast, since I was a teenager. From nibbling off the chocolate along the edge of a Snack, to popping a Hula Hoop on each finger or trying to chug a bottle of Tanora, only for it to come out my nose.

I have to say, I do love them and need the comfort more lately.

Mum ❤️

Last December marked the tenth year that I began posting on VSCO, a photo and video sharing website. It’s something I am extremely proud of and flicking through the six hundred plus photos I’ve posted I love seeing my progression as a photographer over the years. From getting a Hanimex 35KAF point and shoot camera before a trip to Boston with my grandparents in 1992, to buying a Leica M6 rangefinder recently as my film camera and using my iPhone everyday to take photos, I cannot wait to see what images I make in the years to come.

VSCO

Lately, I’ve enjoyed brewing filter coffee with a Hario V60 using beans from Imbibe, a roaster from Dublin that I love. The fruity and chocolaty tones are just wonderful in the morning, whether made at home or in the office. My go-to for years though had been an oat milk flat white from either my favorite coffee place Filter or from my Sage Bambino Plus espresso machine, a purchase made during lockdown. My journey with coffee, if you want to call it that, didn’t begin until my late twenties when I would drink caffè mochas, the chocolate helping mask the bitter and burnt taste, from places like Gloria Jeans, Insomnia, and Cork Coffee Roasters. As many coffee shops opened in Cork, and the various roasters popping up too over the years, there is an amazing coffee culture happening. The small coffee shops, local roasters, stalls at farmers markets, and horse boxes at the side of the road or at the beach are all at such a high quality and have enabled me to try so many different roasts. At least these days, there’s so much choice even my dad, who I will always remember cracking the paper seal on a fresh jar of Maxwell House on mornings before school to make his morning cup, has advanced to high-quality freshly ground filtered coffee.

I have not been taking photos much lately, partly due to the kids, the house, and the winter weather. Spending the darker evenings indoors in front of the fire with a Netflix show in the background, I came across the Voigtlander Nokton Classic MC 40mm f/1.4 lens for sale on MPB. I had been considering a change from the 35mm 7artisans f2 lens that I have on my M6, thinking I might want a 28mm lens because I watch a lot of street photographers on YouTube. However, I found that I prefer a tighter frame-line. Many of my shots taken on my iPhone use the 48mm equivalent lens, so I’m going to try the Voigtlander as it’s much more compact than the 7artisans lens. The weather is getting brighter as we head into spring and I’ll see how the images turn out when I get to try it.

We have an egg donor!

Back in November, a wonderful woman reached out through our agency after hearing about our bad luck in finding a donor. She expressed her desire to help. It had been an arduous journey over the past year since we started in January 2023. We had three failed attempts to secure a donor and had to say goodbye to our surrogate back in September. It was wonderful to hear that someone wanted to assist us in moving forward. After signing the legal contracts, following her medical clearance and genetic tests, our clinic informed us that she was ready to begin the hormone injections right away (this was last week). This meant she would be able to donate in about 10 days!

We had gone from months of nothing but bad news to this, along with getting a sale agreed on our house. So, we are elated. I’ve put my pragmatic hat back on until I have the keys to the house and a baby in front of me. ^^

We, my husband and I, live in a small mid terrace house in the centre of a city and it’s been great place for various reasons - no need to own a car, great amenities, entertainment, etc. Though with our future additions coming along (I’ve heard they come with a swathe of add-on’s from buggies to bed’s and toys to nappies) we knew at some stage the need to move to a bigger place. Flicking through Daft and MyHome was a nightly ritual, and whenever we would pop out to see my parents on the weekends, I’d retrieve the Irish Examiner Property paper from the recycling bin to try and find our future family home. As an outline plan we told each other we would have the first kid, then the second kid, still living in our teeny tiny city centre home and after everything had settled we would buy a bigger house. We save a high portion of our income so our ‘baby, baby, house’ approach was very practical in terms of being able to afford a deposit in the intervening years of our kids being born.

Last winter, as our journey to start a family trudged along and during an evening of us sending each other WhatsApp messages with links to houses for sale in West Cork as we watched Netflix, we found one. Our search criteria was determined by himself having always wanted a garden because our current one didn’t have one and my love West Cork, specifically around Clonakility. The house ticked all of those boxes and very much piqued both our interests. We had developed a pragmatic outlook on everything since our surrogacy journey had fumbled a bit so didn’t think we would buy it and organised to drive down to take a look anyways.

‘Fuck!’ I kept saying to myself as we walked around the area where the house was located and he kept coy but I could tell her liked it too. A modern house, built in early 2000’s, unfinished inside, set on a good bit of land, and adjacent to a river. Oh, and it’s 10 minutes from Clonakility and all the beaches we love. I rang the auctioneers to organise a viewing and the receptionist said, ‘Oh Frank’s on leave this week, and viewings will begin next week. I’ll get him to give you a call, whats your details?’ A viewing appointment was booked in for the following Friday at 10AM.

All the way home in the car I kept saying ‘Fuck, fuck, bollix!’ and hoped we would absolutely hate it after our viewing but we didn’t. We only fell in love with it more which they say never to do. I rang our current mortgage provider in earnest to find out if we could get a second mortgage and we could. We put in an offer and after a tense bidding process, we were accepted at just over the asking price. We’re now at the stage between ‘Sale Agreed’ and ‘Sold’ that could take weeks or months but we’re both committed to moving our lives to West Cork. I guess it’s now going to be ‘house, baby, baby’ or ‘house, baby, nothing for ages and then baby’ because we’ve got so much to do! ^^

I feel like there’s been a disturbance in my procrastination force lately, or maybe it’s been happening over the last few years and I’m only paying close attention to it now. Starting a family seems to have a way of focusing the mind to achieve previously unachievable goals in a very short period of time, well for me. For instance, today I applied for a job and I didn’t overthink it! Dusting off a resumé from the last job I applied for in 2015 to help craft an up to date version, tailored to the role I was interested in. A chat with a colleague from the team I’d be applying for and boom, I applied online via the job advertisement. No sweat.

Admittedly, I have been noticing a subtle change over the last few years but it’s when we began our surrogacy journey that I’ve applied myself to drive that whole endeavour forward, and now noticing that I’m not as perturbed with buying a new house, getting a mortgage or applying for a new job. It’s apt that I titled this post as ‘New Manley’ because I’ll be doing that officially too, soon although that decision did take a long time in contrast to the ‘do not overthink’ above relatively quick decisions. Let’s hope I get an interview. (End)

The past few weeks have been arduous, with work getting busier, the winter nights closing in, me not feeling well following a chest infection I had a few weeks ago, and in the background, our surrogacy journey not working out according to our expectations. As recently as last week, we received an email saying that the third egg donor we had matched with decided they did not want to proceed. She had informed the team at our clinic in Toronto that the process was going to be too much after remembering the last donation she had done and how her family was concerned for her well-being. The realisation of how much of a sacrifice this woman, whom we never met or knew, had gone through was really tough. This was on top of us losing our surrogate, an amazing woman we had been talking to all summer, when a test revealed we would not be able to continue on our journey with her. We’ve both, my husband and I, pushed on trying to find a new surrogate and we’re working closely with our case specialist to find another egg donor but it’s unsettling.

I’ve noticed myself drifting, forgoing running (the weather hasn’t helped), not eating as well as I should, and seeing my to-do list, important for a recovering procrastinator, not getting any shorter. My subconscious led me to music, like I’ve always done, to soothe my unsettled mind. In particular, I’ve been listening to Kishi Bishi’s ‘Violin Tsunami’ on repeat, a haunting piece of music that grips the racing heart, yet the words have the ability to soothe*. Although the song’s lyrics are about hard-learned lessons of history and reckoning with America’s past internment of Japanese-Americans during WWII, the melody and, in particular, Kaoru’s violin playing which begins slow and crescendos in the middle to a satisfying plateau then settling back down as the singer sings the final few lyrics to reduce my anxiety. The song is uplifting, beautiful, and it gives me goosebumps too, which is what I need when I feel everything is a bit too much. I can think clearly and feel a little more optimistic, especially about our surrogacy journey and talk more openly with my husband, who has been amazing over these last few weeks. I’m sure everything will work out.

When our faith was on the edge

Of the weight of summer days on end

Memories of the setting sunlight

Would tell a different way to be

To be, to be

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*REVIEW: KISHI BASHI – VIOLIN TSUNAMI via musicvein.co.uk/2019/07/0…

This week, I was reminded of the time I played basketball as a teenager with the rest of my family at the old E.S.B Sportsco on the Curraheen Road, here in Cork. The building is gone now but it was the sports and social club for E.S.B’s Cork based employees, with a main sports hall for indoor games, changing rooms and pool tables downstairs, a bar and function area upstairs and two football pitches outside next to a carpark. Our Dad would bring us kids, myself, my sister and two brother’s there every Friday night during the school year to run around and arriving around half six we’d often have to wait for the men to finish playing indoor soccer before we’d be allowed in. The basketball nets would be winched down into position by hand and in the colder evenings during Winter the hall would be freezing due to the lack of heating, which was no bother since we’d be running around during practice. Boys and girls of all ages, kids of the employee’s and their friends, we’d bring our friends too, would turn up every week and a flurry of activity would always ensue. In the early years, we’re talking the very early nineties it was usually two or three of the dad’s who would be our basketball coaches for the evening getting us to do lay up’s, shooting practice, running, etc. As I got older we had a proper ‘coach’, a guy by the name of Freddie who had played with the Blue Demons team in the eighties, and with a few older kids joining our Friday Night’s, it began to turn into a proper practice. We were doing ‘suicides’ to warm up, drills and everyone would join in a full court game to finish out our 60 minute time slot. It was great!

After every session finished we’d all move upstairs, tired, sweating and go straight for the bar to get a pint of ‘rasa’ along with a package of Tayto crisps, and maybe a KitKat. It was almost a staple to get the same combination of ‘pint of rasa, crips and a chocolate bar’, that I still love the same to this day. Usually there’d be no one in the bar when we’d arrive as a group, so we would spread out sitting at those small bar tables and stools, drinking, talking and eating and maybe watch a game if it was showing on the old CRT TV’s hanging from the ceiling. The Dad’s would come back from cleaning and sorting out the hall to ensure all the kids were well behaved. All of us would stick around and then finish our drinks after which we would bundle ourselves into the car so our Dad would drive us back home. Sometimes we’d pickup a few bags of chips from The Fry in Ballincollig and watch the VHS pre-recorded episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when we got in the door at home. My Friday Nights at the E.S.B Sportsco stopped when I went into fifth year, and I have great memories of that time because of how positive effect it had on my life.

ESB Group - en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ESB_…

It has been a tough few weeks on our surrogacy journey, and last Thursday, we made a difficult but inevitable decision to end our relationship with our surrogate. We had matched back in May and had been getting to know her, and her partner during the summer. As part of the process she needed to be medically cleared by our clinic before we’d sign any contracts and it took a few weeks before that could begin. Over that time we were brought into her life, and her into ours, so it was the worse feeling ever when one of her test results revealed something serious. It was something she had not known about and wouldn’t of if she’d not begun the journey with us. It felt like a breakup when we said we wouldn’t be able to continue with her and in my heart I felt she wanted us to, after the devastating news she’d learnt about her own health. We’re taking a few days to recover from this but have to move on and hope another woman, our future surrogate, will find us and do the most amazing thing ever, help us start a family.

We’re experiencing some usually hot weather in Ireland this week, for September and I’m conflicted by it. On the one hand we had such a shit summer that I feel we deserve it but on the other hand, it is evident our climate is changing. It was balmy at 6AM each morning when I walked up the hill to work and difficult then to keep our house cool with our living area being upstairs. Today, we drove down to Red Strand and a sea fog hung over the beach. The weather is due to break tomorrow but it was nice to have a few days of delayed summer.

[originally posted on Medium on Jan 13, 2023]

It’s 2023, a new year and one when we begin our journey to start a family through surrogacy and I am so fucking scared. My anxiety has me imaging a humungous mountain ahead that we’ve to climb and all I’m thinking is ‘How the fuck are we going to get to the top of that?’ Last year, we did a fair bit of research to understand how we might want to start a family and surrogacy was what my husband and I settled on as our best (chance) option to realise a shared dream. So naturally, for me, I became obsessed with learning about the surrogacy process, how long it takes and how much it costs (A new house anyone?). There’s going to be up’s and down’s and I’m glad I have someone to support me through it. But I still can’t shake this scary feeling, this anxiety or is it trepidation for what we could have – a child of our own? RM x @greentothebone@mastodon.ie Blogging about a surrogacy journey my husband and I began in 2021.

This past week was ‘I&D Week 2023’ at my workplace. The yearly event held during Pride month showcasing talks, exhibitions and events around Inclusion and Diversity, with a Parade of Culture taking place midweek. There is also a big outdoor party with a musical special guest (this year it was Tom Grennan) and free alcohol. One of the events available to attend is called the ‘Power of Storytelling’, and consists of employees telling their personal stories virtually to people who sign up. I was given the opportunity this year to tell my own personal story, ‘Surrogacy Journey’, a 3000 word essay I wrote chronicling everything my husband and I have done to realise our dream of having our own family. I’d never done anything like it before as it was way outside my comfort but was emboldened to sign up.

A bit of background as to why, is that over the past few months I’d begun reaching out to my company to find out what supports they give to employees who use surrogacy to help start their family. With there being no surrogacy legislation in Ireland, I didn’t expect much but the Assistant Human Reproduction bill 2022 was close to being brought before government so many companies had begun to offer enhanced benefits, including time off that aligned with Maternity and Adoptive Leave. A post on our People (HR) website in October 2022, ‘…. benefits are getting even better in 2023’ offered a generous financial support. That assistance was amazing but those other companies offered 26 weeks paid time off to bond with a child. When I asked the HR Team if they had any plan to offer the same, I was sent a email advising I’d be entitled to six weeks Non-Birth Parent Leave. I wanted to highlight the importance of the journey my husband and I were on, and maybe recognise the need for extended leave.

Determined I began to engage with two advocacy groups, the Pride group and the Parents group, to highlight surrogacy. Many people I’d spoken too were enlightened about the process and the journey someone needs to take to start their family with the help of surrogacy. Along with all the work my husband and I had been doing, getting time off to bond and look after a baby was paramount to us. The ‘Power of Storytelling’ events I attended in 2022 were stories from brave and courageous people who sought solace with an inclusive audience. I’d be doing the same so I wrote an essay with excerpts from stories that I have written over the past couple of months. The story began with us in Toronto’s Pearson International Airport and seeing an Irish gay couple with their baby, born via Surrogacy. The middle section was a timeline of events up to the point we travelled to Canada and then finished with us disembarking from our flight in Dublin, and seeing that same couple with their baby meeting their family who were hugging and kissing them at Arrivals area.

Over 120 people signed up to attend my virtual event, over two days where I read the essay aloud and took questions. I absolutely loved it and have received so many well wishes from colleagues and many compliments too on my storytelling ability. It’s important to note that I left out any mention of ‘Surrogacy Leave’ from the essay, since it isn’t legislated for in Irish Law. A person did ask a question if I’d get time off, equivalent to adoptive leave, with me saying no but the hope it will be soon either via a bill being enacted in law or our company stepping up. I felt more comfortable with it being addressed this way then using the event as a soapbox for a political statement.

Time will tell if I can avail of any extended leave but importantly I was able to share our very personal story with so many people. People who may be struggling with starting their own family or know others who are but now know there is hope.

I’d just sat down after buying a package of chocolate pretzels and three small bottles of Canadian Maple syrup from the Relay gift shop across from our gate in Terminal 3, at Pearson International Airport in Toronto. The incoming Aer Lingus flight from Dublin was pulling in after having just landed and an announcement came out over the tannoy from the gate crew calling on young families to get ready to board the plane and I glanced up to see two men with what looked like a baby in a carrier. ‘Harry!’ nudging him, ‘Gay couple with a baby!’ and I gestured with my head in their direction. He looked and said he recognised one of the men who he saw changing a baby on the changing table in the toilet earlier. We said to each other they must be bringing their baby back home after a surrogacy journey here in Canada although we didn’t know this at the time. Still watching them, we saw them take a family photo at the gate before going through and later I would see this photo re-posted on the @irishgaydads Instagram story a few days later.

We’d flown to Toronto earlier in the week to attend an appointment at our fertility clinic on Bay Street, to draw blood and collect our semen samples for analysis and freezing. It was the first tangible event on our surrogacy journey we’d undertaken so we were both excited but also nervous. The previous thirteen weeks had been dominated by email exchanges with four of the five companies we had to deal with, sending money, signing forms, GP appointments to get medically cleared to travel to Canada and more, so this trip felt like the real start to our surrogacy journey. A day after our clinic visit we got the good news from them that everything was ok which was a sigh of relief and meant we could enjoy our stay. I’d been pushing the ‘project’ aggressively when we began at the end of February and with himself working alot too, we were both tired so needed the break.

On top of the earlier update we got some more good news by email from our coordinator at the Surrogacy Agency with the subject ‘Surrogate Wants to MEET YOU!’ It was such a surprise that this women wanted to connect with us so soon because we had only pre-approved her surrogate profile, on our way to Dublin via bus from Cork earlier in the week. We were both so happy with all the good news and hoped to meet her in person but understandably it was too early in the process for that to be organised in time. We would eventually connect later in the week over FB Messenger and a Facetime call to begin to build a relationship.

The rest of our stay was lovely, a day trip via Amtrak train to Niagara Falls was amazing although the area around the falls were not what I had expected and visiting Casa Lomo to see where they’d filmed a scene for the 2010 romantic action comedy, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World was a treat. A walk around a Wolfgang Tillmans (photographer) exhibition at AGO, the Art Gallery of Ontario, one evening was a wonderful surprise but the rest of Toronto, though nice, was too much city from what were used to. A doppelgänger stand-in for New York in many America made TV shows and movies, had a few million people living in and around it but sure it wasn’t Cork, like. This had been our first trip out this way, a first to North America for himself, so we missed the opportunity to visit ‘big country’ Canada, the mountains, lakes and forests further inland which we’ll save for a later trip. Anyways, our kids will be half Canadian so we’ll be out this way for the rest of our lives.

Back in the airport, our seat row had been called so we achingly arose from our seats, it had been a long day, to make our way to the gate entrance with our backpacks and passports open on the photo page. All checked and ready to board, we walked down the sky bridge to the awaiting Aer Lingus plane. I was looking ahead of us to see if I could see the couple we saw earlier and there they were in the two window seats, close to our middle aisle seats, with the new born in one of their arms. I whispered with a smile under my mask as I passed them ‘Hello dad’s!’ and gestured to himself to where they were. Throughout the flight we could see people going over to the couple, smiling and the stewards being very attentive to the new family. When landed a few hours later in Dublin we were racing to get our connecting Air Coach bus to Cork but we managed to steal a few minutes to see the moment the new family came through the arrivals gate of terminal two. It looked like a group of people were waiting to welcome someone, it was 6AM so a bit of odd to see anyone at this hour but a screech of joy from someone who looked like an expectant granny was heard as they came through the automatic doors. We stuck around a bit eating some food before our bus journey but it was so wonderful to see this couple at the end of their journey and us hoping to be them this time next year if everything works out — two men and a baby.

Oblivious.

August 28, 2022 – On our wedding anniversary we rented a punt (a long flat bottomed boat) and were gently guided along the river Stour in Canterbury, England. I had taken a number of photos on the day with my iPhone and with my Leica M6. When I eventually did get the roll of Fuji 200 from that day developed, about a week later, I was absolutely blown away by this shot. I remember being lent back in the punt because it is so shallow in depth, that we had to lie back for fear of tipping it into the river and focusing on the far end of the river to get a leading line into my frame. I was completely oblivious to the two people on the riverside, perfectly lit by rays of sunshine and they are completely oblivious to me as they are looking at their phones.

Via VSCO