Author: web author Anthony Fisher

Early on, at perhaps 12 or 13 years, I was the proud owner of a Box Brownie not that any photos remain.  Still I would produce it, fiddle with the simple controls and take photos of my family.

This image, taken from the internet is just how I remember it.

My Father had a Voigtlander that he had taken from a German naval officer, most likely in Denmark where he took formal surrender from the garrisons around the Danish coast.

Again an image of one from the internet.  Dad let me use it and I felt a serious photographer.  It was beautifully made and I would take it from its leather case just to admire it, the precision and the fascinating way the bellows opened.  He kept it in a cupboard with his enlarger and other developing equipment.  I never saw him develop and print his film but I suppose he had kept it all from before the war.  It inspired me to develop and print – black and white only – my own photos.  I acquired a brilliant Russian enlarger that packed into a small brief case.

I was in my early 30s and was slim enough to crouch in the cupboard under the stairs that I had transformed into my darkroom.  I can still feel the excitement as I watched my first print appear; it was magic.  Most have gone the way of all things, though I have a couple or so left.  I swapped it with Dad for his full-sized enlarger which I never used.  All that is left is the base board I use as a ramp for the lawnmower and the lens which is a lovely chunk of glass that  I use as a magnifier; when I can find it.

In the late 60s Dad gave me his Nikon F with Photomic head and three fixed lenses in a wonderful leather case.  I tried to find it just now.  I know I have it somewhere but here is an image from the web again.

It was a great camera and opened my eyes to how good prints can be with a decent camera and decent glass lenses.  I still like Nikon, sturdy, fabulous optics, reliable; though I now use Panasonic digital cameras.

Until a few months ago, I have never used a telephoto lens.  It is something that I was interested in using but was never sure what I would use it for.  Anyway, as Oscar Wilde advised, I gave into temptation and bought a 150 to 400mm lens – equivalent to 300 to 800 for a 35 mm wet film camera.  It is a work of art and high technology and extremely heavy due to the lenses being glass, as all good ones are.  It is complicated to use and very heavy.  The first pictures I took were of a grey wagtail sitting on her nest.  I had to lean round the corner of the house trying not to fall in the river- or leat to be pedantic – adjusting focal length and focus.

Next day I used a tripod and photographed the damsel flies dancing and courting over the yellow water lilies.

One of the ducklings had been sucked under the sluice gate opposite the balcony but it magically re-appeared.

This is where the Wagtail flies to feed.

We have found bullets imbedded in the limestone wall and the pock marks from, what looks like, a machine pistol.  The Gestapo were here.   The spirit of an old lady asked us to plant a rose bush in memory of those killed.  A couple of years ago we brought one out from England and several soldiers gathered round at the planting ceremony.  The week before the bush was covered with about 30 blooms but new buds were developing and I photographed one with my new lens.

The house is tranquil now.

One of the many woodlands in Enfield is  Whitewebb’s Park.  It stretches from Whitewebb’s Lane in Crewe’s Hill, near the King and Tinker to the Golf course Behind the Rose and Crown in Clay Hill by Hilly Fields.

Not as majestic as Hadley Wood it is mysterious and interesting with many secret paths.  The remnants of the New River pass through and there is an interesting iron viaduct which I usually photograph but not this time.  I have just remembered the dam holding back a surprising amount of water.  Must photograph both when we next go.

With open spaces and plantations of little oak trees it is fun to visit.  Up by Whitewebb’s House there is a lake and seats to watch the world go by.

Some of the Gun Powder plot was hatched in the house and the letter that was intercepted leading to the arrest of the gang was dispatched from here too.

We plan a picnic here by the stream.  The grandchildren love playing in it.

We both like being amongst trees, Valerie more so than me but I love the peacefulness and tranquil quality of a wood its energy and how touching and embracing them is such a rewarding experience.

On Sunday we went to Hadley Wood, Again, which is an ancient deciduous  wood a remnant of the Royal Hunting estate that formed much of Enfield and its environs since the time of Henry II and frequently used by  Henry VIII and Elizabeth I.  There was a large Palace, Elsyng, in Enfield that Henry had for his children and from where he could hunt.  I like to think that Henry wrote many of his poems  here and perhaps even Greensleeves.

I think that being in contact with the Earth, grounding, is very important and we all too often drift away from this. Being well grounded keeps us balanced, strong and, I feel, optimistic.   Hugging tree trunks, thinking on the Earth, feeling the telluric energy helps us to ground  and crystals can also be used.  My favourite stone for this is black tourmaline

and I have a lovely lump which is wonderfully effective.  In the background you can see lumps of rose quartz which is perhaps my favourite stone but it is black tourmaline for grounding.

On Sunday we went for a picnic in the wood and as I was lying on my back looking up at the trees, listening to the birds, I was struck as to how beautiful the leaves and branches were against the sky.

I thought of the time last September when we were in another part of Hadley Wood where we saw swathes of Michaelmas daises.

It always a treat to see them in such large numbers.

It was a bit chilly this morning but we decided to visit the fete at Forty Hall and I am glad we did; of course it is sunny now!  The farm was open and we wandered through past the orchard and a lonely Punch and Judy but I bet it will be surrounded by children and curious adults soon.  I love the smell of farms, the animals, hay and feed.  It was good to see the chickens but I missed the pigs.  We were on our way to look at the vineyard.  We sponsor a couple of vines and hope loads of you do as well.  It t is an imaginative and worth-while project.

I think it has 10,000 vines and is cultivated, by hard-working volunteers with professional supervision, organically and using Steiner’s principle of biodynamics.  It something Enfield can be proud of;  I know that I am.

One disappointment was that the farm shop did not have any sausages, (all meat products are produced from farm stock) but we had bought some rhubarb on our visit last weekend.

The lake and planting of the mound at the end are coming on well.

Canada geese are a nuisance now but young are always sweet and lovely!  I remember how excited we used to be (in the 1950s) when a V of geese flew over honking their way to somewhere. If only they would stay in the sky.

The lead  in the troupe of Albanian dancers gave a short speech.  She mentioned how they are pleased to be integrating into London and Enfield but to do this they need to be aware of their roots ( I hope that I have accurately paraphrased).  I go for this sentiment though I am not sure what my roots are.

The cedar in the background was the one we were married under.  The huge branch we stood under still looks magnificent.

The grounds were looking particularly loved and cared for and we enjoyed our stroll to the kissing gate and so home.

We are lucky to have many parks and open spaces in Enfield, one is Forty Hall an early Jacobean manor house.  Sunday we decided to go there via the car boot in Enfield Town Market.  We parked in the little car park behind the Grammar and County Schools.  There is a rare Ginko tree in one corner, it is the small tree on the left.

A friend, whose green fingers extend to trees, helped the company move it here, not sure where from.

Walking to the market place along Holly Walk, I spotted a funnel spider in a wall of yellow London stock bricks.  It is always a shock to witness the speed at which the spider, lurking deep suddenly appears to capture any fly or other creature that lands on the stoop of its home.

The bricks were made from London clay. There were several brick fields in Enfield and much of Enfield was built using these bricks about 1890 to 1910. The clay has been all used up so they cannot now be made.  We passed another piece of history, a red brick building built by Henry VIII when he endowed the Grammar School.  A later memory is the upper floor of a building that had Boots on the ground floor.  Not sure what it is now though we walked past it!

So to Forty Hall.  The link to the web site gives details of this exceptional park and house, I am blogging about our walk there.  I’ve been going to forty Hall for over 50 years and Valerie for longer.  Her parents were offered accommodation there but didn’t take the offer up, the shops were too far I suspect.  Despite this we wandered into a part we had not been to before and found bluebells to boot!

It was secret with little tracks, quiet.  The path we followed led to one we had often walked on.

And then we came to one of my favourite trees, a huge sweet chestnut.

Henry VIII had a palace here, Elsynge, it is now thought to be a major one.  Archaeological excavations are carried out each summer.  The site is somewhere behind this small oak.

Edward VI was there with his sister Elizabeth when he was told of his father’s, Henry VIII, death and that he was now King of England.  It seems Henry planned much of the dissolution of the monasteries here and I like to think he wrote his hunting poems here maybe even Green Sleeves.

We walked where once walked Princes, Kings and Queens.

Being in a Union does not destroy individuality, After 300 years Scotland is still Scotland and Scots know that they are Scots and I know when I am in Scotland.  It is the same for Wales which survived the Welsh Knot.  As to the English?  I suggest you read Jeremy Paxman’s book – The English: A portrait of a People and Exotic England: The Making of a Curious Nation – by Yasmin Alibhai Brown.

Last week we travelled to France on Brittany Ferry and, at at the dreadful hour of six, tinkles on the public address system woke us to a view of St Malo through the porthole.

Friday we had a delightful French evening which started by having dinner with our son and daughter-in-law and a Dutch couple who are good friends.  It was a pizzeria so I had my favourite with capers, olives, anchovies, oregano on the bed of tomato and cheese.  We then went to a small community theatre where a friend was performing singing typically French songs.

The excellent singer, ambience, audience,  glasses of rosé cider, the intensity of the performer and audience was vraiment Francais.  ( I cannot find the cedilla).

There is the wonderful oven-roasted beetroot in Leclerc (my favourite supermarket)

One tent supported a society for the protection of “Itinerant Singers” modern day troubadours I suppose,

and there were squares and impasses as well as a very French Café.

Where else but France can I have a plate of whelks, clams, mussels, cucumber salad and hard-boiled egg in a transport café ( Les Pyramids) ?  Well Napoleon was an Egyptian buff,  his soldiers used the Sphinx as target practice.

The shellfish came from a magnificent buffet and it was followed by delicious poached cod.  (The bread was great which is unusual in France nowadays)

So back to Epron and an English rose in a French garden alongside a French river.  The French do rivers very well.

Oops! I almost forgot. France makes toilet paper par éxcellence!