I was sitting peacefully on my own in the sea a couple of days ago (on a surfboard obviously – I didn’t go for a wander along the beach and think ‘Oh – that looks like a nice damp spot for a moment of quiet non-upright semi-immersed introspection’) when somebody paddled out and sat next to me.
I prepared myself for the usual half nod and uncomforable silence that stands for “I am a surf-man and I will take my rightful place in this hierarchy of two!”. I was met however with a broad smile and a cheery greeting. We exchanged names, lifestyle choices and then discussed our personal decision to surf a smaller quieter peak than join the plethera of surf practioners at other ‘better’ waves.
Continue reading “Into the snakepit”
The more observant of you will notice that posts on this blog have been less than prolific as of late. The medical term for this is apparently ‘blog impotence‘.
According to Wikipedia:
The inability to get a ‘blog-on’ can be both humiliating and frustrating and can lead to awkward social media encounters, such as ‘liking’ your school friends meal choices and even Snapchatting with your nieces…
I have been unable to get on top of a good hearty ‘weblog’ in well over a year and to be honest my last sporadic blogular ejaculations have been somewhat disappointing. Leaving me feeling slightly soiled and unappreciated…
So here I am with the wise words of Yoda in my mind – wrapping my dainty man-hands round the reins of a shamefully dusty keyboard to see if I can get back on that Papersurfer horse and ride off into the literary sunset with the cool, spring air whipping through my gracefully thinning hair. To see if I can justify the paultry $9.99 I pay in hosting fees every year and to see if I can untangle my metaphors before I get humped to death by the animal rights police…
This post was going to be about surfing. Which after far too long I have also returned to, with decreasingly painful results. Let’s hope the same can be said about my writing skills…
I didn’t surf today. But I did tune my snowboard ready for ‘Les Pyrenees’…
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 40:51 — 37.4MB)
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My apologies – it’s been a while since I’ve whipped out my digital decks and spun a few tunes out into the spacernet. This is a small eclectic mix of the groovy house variety. A bit of mooch, bump, jiggle and the odd bit of ‘hmmmm that’s nice Max….’ would not be inappropriate. Except if the in-laws are staying – then you need to keep it to yourself…
The tracks are as follows (MP3 on VDJ7):
- Kackvogel (original mix) – Solomun
- Movin’ Chris James refix
- Leadbelly (original)
- Sally – Adam Port
- Tread deep – DJ Haze
- Need in me – Flashmob
- The more I want – Eivissa
- A better World – Fred Everything & Giom
(A big thank you to all 14,855 people that have downloaded my podcasts in the last few years! It seems that the Americans, Brits, German and Chinese are the biggest house fans out there, closely followed by the Japanese, French, Australian and a few Russians. The Dutch and ‘Others’ need to get more involved….)
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.
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 41:30 — 38.0MB)
Subscribe: Apple Podcasts |
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.