SO

Scotland was amazing.

Literally so beautiful it was RIDICulous, honestly, heres some of the pictures -

Oh yeah, but my "Why is there so much black and white photography of Scotland?" question turned out to seem rather silly when I got everything back, with the answer pretty clearly being that it just looks MILES better that way, see these?

Yeah, MILES BETTER.

So tomorow

I'll be in Scotland.

Heres what I've been looking at recently to get me in the Scottish mood -


                                                                       Gus Wylie

Paul Strand



But what I keep wondering IS why are they all black and white? Surely you could still shoot grainy atmospheric colour images? (Quite possibly the answer is - "No Beth, thats why these two PHOTOGRAPHIC GENIUSES only shot in black and white." but its still worth a go, right? Maybe?)  Anyway my plan for the next few days is just pottering Scottish hills with a camera selection and trying to decide what actually stands a chance of working and looking good.

Oof, bit exciting really.

Here's a particularly fitting song by Runrig, who actually where the real start of this whole project, the sound of it is just MENTAL and surreal and just generally very very good likeee -

.

Accurate

P.S.

These are today's other faves -

The end of the summer

"Hey little train! Wait for me!
I was held in chains but now I'm free
I'm hanging in there, don't you see
In this process of elimination

Hey little train! We're all jumping on
The train that goes to the Kingdom
We're happy, Ma, we're having fun
It's beyond my wildest expectation

Hey little train! We are all jumping on
The train that goes to the Kingdom
We're happy, Ma, we're having fun
And the train ain't even left the station"

Ah Nick Cave, I'll love you till my ears drop off, and even then I'll probably just pipe your music into my shrivelled spots where ears used to be...

Today I'll mostly sulking in bed, I'm so sad, we've finished the season, we have no festivals left, this morning I woke up clean and sober, when I wanted in my warm comfy bed rather than been shaken out of my damp cold tent by Joe, still half fucked, covered in mud, AND IT WAS RUBBISH.

 

Glasto sickness. AGAIN.

But I couldn't turn my back on the world for what I like wouldn't let me

But I couldn't turn my back on the world for what I like, I needed

But I couldn't turn my back on the world for what I like wouldn't let me

And I shouldn't turn my back on the sweet smelling Blackberry stone