Ablutions on the Giant’s Causeway

Sometimes you have to squeeze a trip into whatever time you have available. And if all you have is a couple of hours to visit the beautiful Giant’s Causeway before starting work in the morning, then so be it.

I am always extremely conscious of going somewhere with someone else expressly for the purpose of taking photographs. I tend to get totally absorbed in what I am doing, flitting from place to place, searching, looking, adjusting and perfecting shots. Before realising that the person I am with is hovering, patiently (most of the time) further up the road, waiting, perhaps doing their own thing, but always fitting around me and my activities. Despite trying hard not to put pressure on me to finish, or trying not to get in my way, their presence will inevitably bring me back to reality no matter how supportive or understanding they are.

That morning would prove to be no exception.

I was in the zone, keen and eager to start playing with what was laid out before me. The light may have been grey and flat, but there was stunning geometry to work with and puddles of reflections waiting to be discovered. And adding to my eagerness and the urgency I was feeling was the fact that, despite the early hour, coaches were starting to arrive in the car park high above us, spilling their contents out into the morning air, streams of tourists pouring down the hill.

I had ten minutes at most, with no choice but to disappear into my own little world, consciously, stubbornly and hopefully politely, ignoring Murray.

And sure enough, ten minutes later, Murray had no choice but to consciously, perhaps stubbornly and definitely politely make his presence felt.

I need a shit, I’ll see you back in the car park” is as good a way as any to interrupt the creative process, and laughter is as good an accompaniment to taking photographs as any other.

Five minutes later the tourists were upon the Causeway and I had done all I could. I too was heading back up the steep hill, my pace slowly increasing as, inevitably, my bowels also started telling me – in no uncertain terms – that perhaps I shouldn’t have left it so long to make the long journey back to civilisation.

The perils of interrupting your morning routine for whatever reason – sightseeing or art – should never be underestimated.

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