After my first blog, I must apologise for the many errors that it contained. I can only say in my defence that I was so keen to publish my first blog, the care and checking that should have been done was hurried. I shall, in future try harder to achieve a higher standard. As I want you to return, it is my duty to make my thoughts clear and well presented so that my blog is a pleasant and easy read.
Now, a little sob story, which I hope will give you some idea as to why I find writing this and other writings so difficult. It might also go some way to explaining why I must write this blog. It is not just about my photography.
When I was in the latter years of my Primary School, my teacher was a Mr. Cant. His name was very appropriate, as he could not teach and fell back on the old method of belting children if they did not appear to understand, rather than trying to find the best way to pass on the knowledge that would be with us for the rest of our lives. He obviously thought that it was all our fault and that we were being lazy and in-attendant. Every Wednesday afternoon, he would read a short piece that my classmates and I had to write down. Our work was then taken in to be marked and the following week we would be given the results and if we had a certain number of errors, we were belted. I can't remember if we were given the results before or after that Wednesday's piece but I do remember the feeling of dread when returning to school after lunch every Wednesday and the emotions of relief if I had escaped from last week's classs-work without being belted. It never occurred to me to mention any of this to my parents, it was my own silent torment which has coloured my character ever since. Writing has therefore always been associated with pain despite having a desire on my part to put down, in words, how I feel or to find expression of my ideas and thoughts. I realise that if my character had been different, perhaps stronger, this weekly torture might have had less effect on me. I am also aware that some of the fault may be mine and that I may be finding a scapegoat for my own failings.
However, the time has come to banish this all to the past. Our late Mother, when someone had been rude or nasty to her, had this marvellous knack of finding a reason why she thought they had acted in that way. This was not just a good Christian attitude, which she had in abundance, but was also a excellent way of dealing with the negative aspects of people and their demons. In the fifty plus years since that time, I have often wished Mr. Cant the horrors of hell on his soul but perhaps he had many demons of his own. I have a feeling that he was sacked for assaulting a child after I had passed from his dubious care. He certainly should not have had a job as a teacher. So Mr. Cant, I pray that you have found some sort of peace and I hope that I can now move on with the rest of my life without the burden that I took on silently all those years ago.
Despite the above tale, I have no problems with Wednesdays and in fact quite like that mid-week day.
On a happier note, in my first blog, I showed a picture with unusual colours.
Until the next time. Goodbye.