Genesis of a photograph.

The picture on the left is posted on My Shared Images blog.

I was walking to an early morning appointment when I passed a shop owner sweeping the leaves in front of her shop. I was struck by the colours and patterns of her cloths (especially her scarf), combined with the yellow shutter of the shop behind.

Fortunately I had my camera with me, (I always have it in a pouch attached to my trousers belt). But by the time I took the shot, another woman had wandered into view. It was one of the once in a moment shots - I couldn’t wait for the woman in the background to move, because there were only a few leaves left, and in any case I didn’t want to attract the subjects attention, as I felt that would make her feel self-conscious.


Thank goodness for Photoshop which allowed me to clone out the woman with a blue bag. Tweaked the saturation and contrast.

The biggest challenge was deciding upon cropping the picture. I made several attempts before deciding upon the picture initially posted on the blog, (all the work of removing the woman in the background was wasted as that section of the original photo finished up on the cutting room floor (or Photoshop's equivalent)).




Though I posted the picture on the blog, I wasn’t 100% happy with it. So I asked
Ozlady (Stephanie) to take a look and give her opinion. She did more than comment, she worked on the photo and posted the results.

Her work was inspirational, and encouraged me to “close-crop” (is that the correct term?) the photo posted - the results you see above. Thanks Stephanie.

YesBut those were the days

For YesBut’s Image on 11th August 2007, the following captions were posted -

david mcmahon 's suggested caption - See gulls and Pigeon pair

Pope Terry 's caption - bird on left: "Oh man... four hours getting ready and someone turns up in the exact same outfit!"


Chewy 's suggestion - How do you like your new job at air traffic control?

ozlady 's caption - Ready, aim... FIRE! and

I can do a triple backflip with a half twist... and you?

Doug 's suggestion - You flew up here? So there is another way up other than using a ladder!

Siddharth Khandelwal's caption - Good you came.. two of us have a better chance of getting a passer by than me alone.

The photo suggested the following story to me:

“Tell me Dad the story when seagulls used to live on rocks and fly over the sea.”
“Well that, if it is true that is, happened a long long time ago.”
“Even before Granddad was a chick?”
“Yes even before then”.
“Were there rubbish dumps in the sea”.
“Well I’ve never seen the sea myself, but I don’t think so”.
“But if there are no rubbish dumps, where did they get food?”
“Now that is a mystery to me. I did hear about them fishing”.
“Fishing? What’s that Dad?”
“Well I’ve seen men sit by a river for hours and hours, and they call that fishing. But I don’t see how that gets them food like we get.”

“But what did they do for fun Dad?”
“Ah in those days seagulls didn’t have fun”.
“So they didn’t sit on posts so they could poop on people walking underneath.”
“No back then Town Councils had no consideration for seagulls. Its only in the last twenty years that they’ve provided posts for us to sit on”
“It must have been boring”.
“I guess so son, I guess so.”

YesBut birds the word - Part 2

Continued from yesterday.

For YesBut’s Image posted on 6th August 2007, ozlady 's suggestion the caption -

“Having slayed the dreaded Backpacker, the pigeon sauntered across the railway station, disappearing into the flock of docile pigeons like the trained assassin he was.”

The photo suggested to me the following story, (continued from yesterday):

So your back. If you think I’m going to tell you dirty stories about what I’ve seen through bedroom windows, your mistaken. Though, there was the time . . . no, no, get behind me Saturn. Mustn’t give in to temptation. I’ve got my reputation to protect. And lets face it, us pigeons haven’t got much reputation left.

Myself, I blame that Ken Livingstone. What is he? Mayor of London or something. All I know he has it in for us pigeons, calls us “Flying rats”. This is the man who keeps newts as pets. Come on lets be serious, who would keep newts as pets? Can’t take them for a walk. Can’t teach them to talk. Can’t through sticks for them to chase. What earthly use are they? What earthly use is he? Its because of him, I had to leave Trafalgar Square. Had a real nice life down there, tourists to feed you, nip onto the windowsills of the National Gallery whenever I wanted a bit of culture. Then there were the protest rallies held there. Many a time I’ve left a white blob on a politicians head. Perhaps one of them was Ken - hope so.

Bit of luck, at the time I was looking for a new place to live, I met a distant cousin, nice lad. He mentioned the potentials of living in railway stations. Around about the same time, I was having a stroll through Green Park when I heard a mother tell her son the story of Paddington Bear. I thought, that sounds good; perhaps if I go there someone might take me home.

Been here three months, and still waiting. But its an interesting place, meet some interesting people. Last week there was a fellow over there reading a book, looked over his shoulder. All about karma. Do you believe in that? Was being born a pigeon a reward or a punishment? And if I’m a good well behaved pigeon, what will I be born as in the next life? Gives you something to think about. Tried to discuss it with the chap reading the book, but all he did was shoo me away, and complained to his wife about that damn bird’s cooing stopping him read.

Just look over my shoulder see her. Going to a pop festival. Catching up on her sleep before the raving starts. Though I reckon she’s on drugs. Well lets face it, who’d sleep in a railway station. I know what your thinking - me. But this is only temporary. I was thinking of moving on and taking the Heathrow Express, but I’ve since heard the airport is chaotic, queues everywhere, lost luggage. So I’ve decided to stay here a little bit longer.

Look if you’re intending to stay, let me give you a little advice. If you want to survive you got to have attitude. No not attitude but ATTITUDE. You know what I mean, you’ve got to walk the walk and talk the talk. No skulking around corners. Let me show you. See that woman over there eating a sandwich, watch this.

See what happened, she had to give me a piece, not only of bread but the meat inside. You walk up to them look straight in their eyes, and by shear willpower challenge them to dare not to give you food. Works every time.

Well wasted enough time talking to you, I’ve got to meet my bird for a little bit of cooing and cuddling. Might see you again. But don’t forget ATTITUDE.

YesBut birds the word - Part 1

For YesBut’s Image posted on 6th August 2007, ozlady 's suggestion the caption -

“Having slayed the dreaded Backpacker, the pigeon sauntered across the railway station, disappearing into the flock of docile pigeons like the trained assassin he was.”

The photo suggested to me the following story:

Do you mind, I say do you mind, who do you think you are, take that camera out of my face! Typical human, taking my picture without a by your leave. I’m not one of your common a garden pigeons you know, I’ve got Royal blood flowing through my veins, oh yes. My Great, great, great, great, (well lots of greats) Grandfather was a war hero. He won the Second World War for the British, got himself a medal to prove it. After the war he went to live in Buckingham Palace, treated like a Lord he was.

Yes, our family was setup for life. Then my Great, great, great (you know what I mean), Grandmother got herself mixed up with this bad lot from Trafalgar Square - real street trash. Well next thing she knows, she’s up the duff - as they say “with eggs“. Got thrown out of the big house at the end of the Mall and finished up being a homeless single parent.

But I still go back to visit the old ancestral home. Last time for the Queens birthday. There they all were on the balcony waiting for the flypast, when I flew over. Saw a photo in the papers, of Prince Phillip pointing up at the planes flying over. Rubbish, he was pointing at me and telling Liz, “watch out for that bird he’ll shit on anybody”. He got no class, as if I would poop on Her Majesty.

I’ve not always lived in a railway station. Lived at some high class addresses I have. Well not so much at, more on the windowsills. For a time I lived at Harrods store. The things I’ve seen through Mohamed Al-Fayed’s office, you wouldn’t believe. But I’m no stoolpigeon, in any case one tweet and I’d finish up sold in the Harrods Food Hall as the innards to a pigeon pie. You know, he don’t get on with Prince Philip, thinks he arranged for Diana and Dody to be murdered.

Yes, the things I’ve seen through windows. There was the time I lived, I think it was in Eaton Square, real posh place, they had servants, butler, housemaid and a cook. Don’t know what the butler saw, but I saw what the butler did. Must admire someone with that much stamina; to be able to keep not only the Mistress, but the young mistress and the housemaid happy.

Look I’m talking too much here, might say something I ort not to.

To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page.

YesBut if only - Part 4

Continued from yesterday.

For YesBut’s Image posted on the 20th June 2007 Ozlady suggested the caption: -

“Guys – shut up, I’m trying to read this sign . . .’U-N that’s un, D-E-R, that’s der . . .”

The photo suggested to me the following story (continued from yesterday):

All his life Ian had only one ambition which sustained him through his lonely upbringing in a small Belgium town; that was to one day find his father. All he knew about his father was what his mother had told him shortly before she had died, from eating contaminated camembert cheese. She had met him while she had been working as a roof repairer in Brussels; his name was either Brian or Bart she wasn’t absolutely sure, but it started with a ’B’. He was English and he had been in Brussels attending a conference on “The standardisation of window frame measuring techniques as applied to the measurement of wooden framed double glassed duel panelled shutter-less windows, as specified in European Union Standardization and Regulation Notice S5C - RT - 5643 dated January 1988“. They had spent one night together, and she had two mementoes: Ian and a rather grey black and white photo of the two of them. Ian had come to London to search for his father. His first port of call had been at the National Federation of Windows, Doors and Allied Components Manufacturers and Surveyors, headquarters in just off Chancery Lane. But they were of no assistance. However to be fair to them, his inability to speak English had been a barrier to communication.

Mac reached the betting shop just as the winner of the 04.30 at Kempton was being announced. Ian walked down the steps to the underground station to continue his search. Jackie sat in her flat, wondering why Ben hadn’t come or even phoned her. Ben opened the front door to his house on the journey home he had formulated a plan.

YesBut if only - Part 3

Continued from yesterday.

For YesBut’s Image posted on the 20th June 2007 Ozlady suggested the caption: -

“Guys – shut up, I’m trying to read this sign . . .’U-N that’s un, D-E-R, that’s der . . .”

The photo suggested to me the following story (continued from yesterday):

The photo suggested to me the following story (continued from yesterday):

If he had known the main reason for his posting to Iraq was the report written by his brother-in-law, he would have been more than just angry with Ben; as it was he wanted to give him a good thrashing for what he had done to his sister. There were only two people Mac loved, his mother who he worshiped and his sister Petranela. He had spoken to her on the phone that morning. Sobbingly she had informed him that she suspected her husband was having an affair with his secretary. Mac swore that he would make Ben pay for hurting his sister.

“Ben you bustard“!

The words cut through his thoughts and brought him back to the present moment. Seeing Mac standing before him, he cursed himself for his stupidity for stopping to buy a coffee- if he hadn’t they would never have met.

”Mac, hi sorry I can‘t stop, late for a meeting“! ”Forget any meeting. You bastard, what have you done to Petrannela“? ”I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about”. ”Don’t try the innocent act with me you snivelling little gitt, I spoke to her this morning.” “What did she tell you”? “Never mind what she told me, you listen and listen good. I don’t know what games you’ve been playing with your secretary or any other woman, but they stop right now”. You go home right now, and be very kind and attentive to your wife. If I ever have any suspicion of you playing around I’ll have your guts for garters”.
Ben knew he had no option. Mac didn’t make idle threats, and he was more than capable of causing him extreme pain. His love for Jackie his secretary vaporised instantaneously. He nodded his agreement and walked on.

Mac watched him walk away, then quickly checked the time; #*@$ he cursed with all the intensity of a Billy goat on heat. It was 04. 29. Too late to get to the betting shop to put a bet on the 04.30 race at Kempton Park. Earlier he had received a phone call from a member of his Marine squad informing him of a rank outsider who was certain to win at Kempton. He had gone immediately to the bank to withdraw £3000 and was going to the betting shop when he had bumped into Ben.

Mac’s curse attracted Ian Vander Hoff’s attention. He had been standing at the head of the stairs to what he had now deduced was the entrance of an “undergouoned stashion”. If only he had turned around a minute earlier he would have seen and recognised Ben.

To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page.

YesBut if only - Part 2

Continued from yesterday.

For YesBut’s Image posted on the 20th June 2007 Ozlady suggested the caption: -

“Guys – shut up, I’m trying to read this sign . . .’U-N that’s un, D-E-R, that’s der . . .”

The photo suggested to me the following story (continued from yesterday):

Things seemed to move so quickly after he submitted his report. He was particularly annoyed that his head of section took credit for the report, and he was never asked to clarify any points. Watching television news each night, he was intrigued to see that while he had been preparing a report on window measuring devices, MI6 had also prepared a report on weapons of mass destruction; he was so glad that he hadn’t been involved with that. It was only after he had been interviewed as part of the investigation into the WMD report fiasco did he realise there might have been a “slight misunderstanding”. When the truth was discovered there was only one possible action - universally followed by all governments - his report was declared a masterpiece and he was given immediate promotion. Never in the history had anyone been given such rapid promotion to Head of Section. His divisional head informed him he was now Head of the Andorra Section. He was taken immediately to meet his staff, she was young but very attractive - she had a schoolgirl’s charm.

He was informed the Section had been created especially for him, the other members of the section would be appointed as soon as he produced an organisational strategic plan. Since taking command, things hadn’t progressed as well as he hoped. He knew Andorra was in South America, but to date he had failed to find it on any map. He could have asked his secretary Jackie for assistance, but they had other things on their mind. In fact he found himself totally infatuated by her.

If he hadn’t been so deeply in thought he might have seen his brother-in-law Mac emerge from the Underground station. If there was one person he didn’t want to meet it was Mac.

Mac, as he always seemed to be since his tour of duty with the Marines in Iraq was seething with rage. He felt humiliated that he was the only member of his squad who had to go out on patrol wearing a Burka. He did not believe the sole purpose was to enable him to blend in with the populace. He thought there must have been another motive, which despite hours of deep consideration, he had failed to identify. The low point of his tour of duty was being “chatted-up” by a group of American GIs who mistakenly identified him as a local beauty - something easily done as he did have deep black watery eyes. Fortunately for him and the GI who slipped his hand under the Burka, he was wearing a pair of thick canvas shorts.

To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page.

YesBut if only - Part 1

For YesBut’s Image posted on the 20th June 2007 Ozlady suggested the caption: -

“Guys – shut up, I’m trying to read this sign . . .’U-N that’s un, D-E-R, that’s der . . .”

The photo suggested to me the following story:

Whether by coincidence or destiny conditions seem to come together at the right time at the right place, and the world is irrevocably changed. Yet the apparently same conditions can occur, but karmically it is not meant to be and even though the potential existed for a quantum change, events pass unnoticed - like ships passing in the night, . So it was when the photograph was taken.

After months of agonising Ben had decided to leave his wife of twenty-two years, to live with his eighteen year old secretary. His friends would probably say he was suffering from middle life crises. Who knows, probably not even Ben. What he did know was he deeply regretted leaving his job as a double glassing window salesman to join MI6, the British Foreign Secret Service. On the first day after training his head of section asked him if he knew anything about WMDs. Ben couldn’t believe his ears, what a start. Did he know anything about WMDs? There was nothing he didn’t know about window measuring devices. To be asked to prepare a report on WMDs was a dream come true. But to make it even better, his head of section said he wanted him to analyse intelligence data to determie whether Iraq had WMDs.

Analyse intelligence reports, why bother? Of course Iraq it had WMDs. During the Iraq Iran war when both the US and UK were supporting Saddam Husein, the company he worked for had assisted in setting up a double glassing window factory just outside Basra. It had been his responsibility to set up a sales force. It was a matter of tremendous pride that he had managed to acquire and distribute sufficient WMDs to the Iraqi sales force, so that they could respond to any sales enquiry in 25 minutes. When writing his report he emphasised the response time.

To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page

YesBut Devine intervention.

The following captions were posted for YesBut’s Image on 3rd August:

ozlady 's suggested caption -
"As God started bursting through the clouds, some schmuck said, "looks like rain."

"Next time I'll use lightning," he said."

Pope Terry 's suggestion - God with his pants down "Can you guess where that lights coming from... yes that’s right it really does shine from there."

Siddharth Khandelwal 's caption - "This is the last time I am putting dirty clothes out hoping that it will rain and wash them. Can we get a damn washing machine"...

Chewy 's suggestion -"War of the Worlds" has begun.

The four captions were jointly awarded the Caption of the Week Award for the week 28th July to 3rd August 2007.

The captions and photograph inspired me to write:

God looked down and sighed when he saw the action of the Muslim Fundamentalists. He tut-tuted at the antics of the Christian Fundamentalists.

“How could things have gone so wrong? Next time around, I’ll give all the power to the Buddhists and Hindus.”

He looked at George W. Bush and decided he was sufficient justification for a change of policy. He left a post-it note to remind himself to write to the Pope to say He approved of abortion and contraception.

His one big regret was when he saw Tony Blair, if only at the time, he could have remembered the incantation He had used to turn Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt.

He admitted to Himself that He had made mistakes:

“I was too soft with that bitch Eve and her snivelling runt of a partner Adam, I thought I’d be a ’liberal’ parent and allow them to learn from their mistakes, but I should have been more stern.”


“As for Mosses and the Israelites, I must admit I took my eye off the ball. At the time, I was into blogging on tablets of stone. Gave them my best piece of work, took me hours to first compose, then I didn’t know which template to use. Yes, it took me days to carve the Ten Commandments. But, what did they do? They smashed them. They thought I let them off lightly by only requiring them to re-carve them. Suckers, that’s when I decided to give the Arabs the crude oil.”

“I had a gut feeling after seeing Adam and Eve, that I had made a design fault. Glad now I took out insurance and created cockroaches to takeover after humans exterminate themselves. Just one thing, after they take over I’ll have to do something about their eating habits and table manners.”

“The human race has been such a disappointment, I wouldn’t urinate on them if they were on fire. Now that’s a good idea, lets see how they cope with Global Warming”.

"Moreover, as for that jumped up ‘look at me clever Dick, clever Dick’, YesBut, how dare he, have the blog title “Grumpy and farting”, there’s only one Grumpy Old Fart around here, and it isn’t him. I’ve left him have his fun for a couple of months, but enough is enough, it has to stop, now! OK the old fool has to keep himself entertained somehow, but no more grumpy and farting, I’ll allow him to think, but only in moderation."

"So if in future you want to read the old fool you better Bookmark this page, or create a link (is that the right term? - we don’t have all that stuff with tablets of stone). Click here - click here, I find opening the skies and sending a thunderclap far more effective. But you haven’t got my powers so click here."

YesBut she was beautiful once - Part 2

For the photograph posted on YesBut’s Image on 21 May 2007, Ozlady suggested the caption -

“Hag drags bag while havin' a fag!”


Story continued from yesterday


All was well until Doug was recalled unexpectedly to the US - he had no opportunity to contact Sophia before leaving. Tragedy struck the first night he arrived back in the States, eating a hotdog he keeled over and died. The results of the post mortem were not made public - the CIA didn’t want it known that one of their operatives had been poisoned. But some in the Agency were suspicious that he had been called back to the States in the first place - was the Agency involved in his death? To cover-up his death the CIA sent messages to all the field operatives Doug was handling (in truth there were many Sophies‘), telling them to continue sending their messages, but for security reasons Doug had to maintain radio silence.

And so Sophie continued to be Aleksei’s lover, cooing in his ear encouraging him to talk about his work. Then one day he broke the news. He was to be transferred to the London Embassy. What was she to do? She sent a shortwave radio message asking for advice. But unfortunately for her there had been an administrative error made at the CIA section of the American Embassy and they had lost Sophia’s code book. So all the information she had passed on had disappeared unused into the ether. Receiving no reply she used her own initiative and told Aleksei that she would follow him to London.

In London they continued to be lovers, and Sophia continued to send her reports, up until the fall of the Soviet Union. As suddenly as Doug had disappeared, so did Aleksei, recalled to Moscow to assist in the destruction of KGB files.

Sophia hoped that one day he might return. As for the CIA, she still waited for them to contact her. Not wishing to risk missing the message she carried her old valved shortwave radio with her everywhere. It was inconvenient especially having to drag around in her bag a 12v car battery to power it.

Click here to submit your caption for todays photo on YesBut's Image

YesBut she was beautiful once - Part 1

For the photograph posted on YesBut’s Image on 21 May 2007, Ozlady suggested the caption -

“Hag drags bag while havin' a fag!”

Her Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Sophie Holstein-Gottorp, to be correct by the time she was born she wasn’t an Imperial Highness - the empire had ceased to exist with the Russian revolution. And being the youngest daughter of a Russian refugee family (albeit related to the Russian Royal family) living in 1950s Paris, she wasn’t much of a Grand Duchess. But there was something about her, not just her stunning beauty, but there was an air of sophistication, which drew men to her like bees to honey.

She was working in a bar when Doug met her. They exchanged a few words, he was intrigued by her accent - she might be the one he had been looking for. He sat sipping his bear till he had the opportunity to talk to her. Once he heard of her Russian ancestry he knew he was onto a winner. Over the next three weeks he took things very slowly, now that he had found her the last thing he wanted was to be scare her off. He took her to dinner, to the ballet - even though he was bored and nearly fell asleep.

It was only after he had slept with her, and was confident she was well and truly hooked, did he reveal he worked for the CIA. Up till then he had maintained his cover story of being a young footloose American writer in Paris. Slowly he nourished and coached her until he knew she was ready to do his bidding. She was to ingratiate herself with Aleksei Machitov, the 2nd Secretary at the USSR Embassy - and assumed by the CIA to be the KGB Head for Western Europe.

He orchestrated a meeting at a dance given by the British Embassy to celebrate a victory of their croquet team against the Argentinean Embassy. She was beautiful and he was charming and they soon became lovers. For months on her love bed Sophia extracted reams of top secret information. This she passed on to Doug using a shortwave radio he had given her.

(To be continued tomorrow - Bookmark this page).


Click here to submit your caption for todays photo on YesBut's Image

I say dear, stop police!

For YesBut’s Image on 24th May, Ozlady’s suggested the caption -

“We all knew the police were a bunch of skirts, but don’t u think this is taking it a bit far?”

London had suffered a spate of audacious jewellery thefts. The robberies were all performed by a gang following the same modus operandi. Breaking into exclusive jewellers in the middle of the day, they made their getaway by running into Ladies Toilets; the police being gentlemen were unable to follow them into the establishments.

To counter the robber’s tactic the Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Ian Blair formed a specialist squad made up of transvestites. The limitation of the squid became apparent when members wearing high heal shoes twisted their ankles when chasing the gang. They refused to wear flat healed shoes, saying “they had their image to think of”.

Sir Ian was forced to form a quick response support unit consisting of one woman on a mountain bicycle. To date the strategy has been successful, with a reduction in the number of robberies. Although there have been complaints from the general public that the special force were using too much makeup, and refusing to perform any duties that might risk them laddering their tights..

Fact, (honest its true), in 2006 a special Police squid was set up to patrol London’s Royal Parks: Hyde Park, Green Park and St James’s Park. They were provided with rollerblades to chase after petty thieves operating in the parks. The trial didn’t last very long - thieves found it easy to escape, they merely ran across the grass, the rollerblading police were unable to follow.