Obviously this is a blatant piece of self promotion. I’m increasing my SEO (non-nerds can Google what that means. Non-Googlers – you have no place being on the internet – so go and knit a wholemeal tanktop or carve yourself some panpipes using a rudimentary lathe and some baler twine). I’m doing this by using a ridiculously obvious title, adding live links to the interweb and also telling all of my several subscribers about my new websites.
That is the perogative of the webmaster. I have a tiny corner of the World Wide Web over which I have complete autonomy. Here I am the ruler, the Papersurfer President. In fact, in this domain – I AM GOD…
For a moment I shall leave aside my feelings of insecurity because in the world of professional photography I am merely a tiny speck on the lens of the Universal Camera. I am a byte on the SD card of existence. I am a mere pixel in the infinite RAW file of life itself.
So please share these links. Like my Facebook page. Be supportive and loving and the Universe will hug you in return. Unless you’re wearing a tanktop – then there’s no hope for you at all…
Wedding photographer in Portugal
Surf and travel photography (in Portugal and the rest of the planet)
Facebook page: www.facebook.com/markcrockettphotography
I didn’t surf today. Still spitting out seaweed from the last time I went…
As the Rip Curl Pro approaches again it reminds me of the first time I paddled into the lineup at a professional surfing event.
It was at the beginning of September in the autumn of 2000 and the World Championship Tour of the Association of Surfing Professionals had finally come to Portugal. In fact it had come to my home break of Cabadelo in Figueira de Foz. A beautiful day as I recall but the swell was junky and the wind had turned onshore. Difficult conditions for a newcomer like me but of course I did have the home advantage.
Rob Machado was making it look effortless on his way to a well earned win, hitting that tiny crumbling lip with an ease and grace that only a man of his Catweazley beard skills and surfing experience can produce. And myself? I was starting to look like an amateur, floundering around in the white water like a rubber-wrapped drowning rodent. So when the loudspeakers finally made the following announcement my fate was sealed…
“Can the idiot in the purple wetsuit on the orange minimal please leave the competition zone. If not you will be removed…”
I didn’t surf today. Or in fact in September, 2000.
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It’s mostly not old and I didn’t borrow much of it.
Fairly funky, a bit flouncy and bouncy with a bit of groove in it. It’s a prototype wedding mix designed to make really old people go to bed and really young people go elsewhere. Everybody in between (if all goes to plan) will have to get up to get down.
There’s also a few deliberate mistakes just to prove that it wasn’t mixed by robots…
Playlist (MP3 on VDJ):
- Hip house by Kabale und Liebe & Lauhaus
- Get your things together (soulmagic funk dub) by Soulmagic and Ebony
- Groove for the main room by Peter O
- Everything is naturally free by P’taah
- Ride my Carpet by Manuel Sahagun
- There is NO David Getah tonight by Sami Dee
- The Piano Track by Stadi and Sidney Spaeth
- You the Feeling by Wayne Williams
- Somebody by Ministry of Funk
- Let the Music by Simone Vitullo
I haven’t blogged for so long it feels like I’m rummaging around in amongst some strangers drawers. Quite exciting and yet ever so slightly wrong. Much like being grammatically ambiguous…
My previous theme decided it didn’t have the energy to load properly anymore (hence the WordPress ‘basic’ and inconspicuous lack of images in previous posts) so I have downsized. Â I think my days of hatcheting WordPress themes are over, there are people much better qulaified than I churning out exceedingly fabulous websites for the meagre price of no pennies. So I shall stick to filling up the empty spaces where instructed by my automatically updating, loads very quickly, doesn’t need any unsupported plugins, no bells, whistles or sticking plasters theme.
So this is a photograph of some baby peach trees and some moody looking clouds. It has no amusing back story, no political slant or hidden agenda. Just a picture. There was a button that said ‘add new post’ and then another one that said ‘add media’. Job done…
I didn’t surf today. Too busy doing what I’m told…
I once heard an estate agent* say to a client (in a bright yet, sincere manner) ‘…it never rains here you won’t need any’. He was of course answering a query as to the lack ofÂ guttering on most of the old houses in Central Portugal.
He was obviously elsewhere several years ago when it rained for 12 weeks straight, flooding the entire valley and washing half of the roads and bridges away. It was the type of Biblical downpour that only a man with good boat building skills and a penchant for bestial matchmaking could appreciate. He must also be busy hibernating every spring and autumn when ‘the rain in Spain falls mainly in…’ well in Portugal apparently. There’s a reason it’s so lush and green around here.
The same estate agent** was then queried upon the lack ofÂ central heating in the aforementioned houses. This question was unfortunately posed during the balmy heat of the summer months, so it was impossible for these hapless house viewers to imagine a potential drop of over 40 degrees celcius during the few months leading up to Christmas.
In real life it gets proper cold up here in the mountains. Cold enough to need thermal pants and woolly socks. Cold enough to really need central heating and certainly cold enough to cause irreparable damage to the procreational prospects of a copper/zinc alloy based Simian.
I didn’t surf today. Too f**king cold…
*please feel free to insert one of the following words to replace ‘estate agent’: Shark, Scheister, Weisenheimer.
**at this point just ‘tool’ will do. Or any other idiomatic term for the male genitalia.
As we all know commuting to work adds a certain drudgery to the day’s proceedings; the stuffy, crowded train carriage where you rattle to work with your head lodged into somebody’s armpit. Continue reading “I’d take the train…”
As Kelly Slater wins an unprecedented 11th world surfing title at the Rip Curl Search event in San Francisco, hope for all middle aged, balding men surely has to augment. Continue reading “Kelly Slater wins World Championship Tour 2011”
Last week I watched all of my surf videos. Even Blue Crush.
It started as an attempt to lift my spirits – to whisk me away to foreign shores where perfect waves meet perfectly placed boards in an inspirational aqueous ballet. Continue reading “Day 35 of the mumps saga…”