Son writes a blog. Once a week, without fail. Until he doesn't.......

I feel that this creates a certain pressure for yours truly.  I try to write monthly, and am now three weeks late. Son wrote recently about the Nike trainers that I never let him have as a child. About skiing and the anticipation and excitement of his first ski of the winter season.  Daughter reminds me of the rule that I set for them as children that no breakfast cereal should cost more than 30p per 100g.

I was a tough negotiater.... a 'mean' mother...... I left all these scars. But we all have scars, right? My mother wouldn't let me play a second instrument. She couldn't afford it. So I took up the oboe as an adult, and then discovered that counting bars when my instrument was not playing was nigh on impossible for me, so I was never able to join an orchestra. Maybe son can buy his own Nike trainers now that he is grown up. And daughter can have any cereal of her choosing. I was only trying to stop them eating too much sugar. Fortunately Weetabix and Shreddies are cheaper than Cheerios and Frosties.

Strange things are happening; I find myself playing the piano again after years of abstinence. Drawn in by Bach's Goldberg Variations, which featured highly in the novel 'Do not Say we have Nothing' by Madeleine Thein. The novel explores the cultural revolution in China. How much tougher was the life of those sent to detention camps for playing music. Their instruments smashed and their compositions burned. I feel so lucky in comparison, and am trying to learn to play some of the easier variations. It is a very slow process.

But I am really here to tell you about Uzbekistan. My other half (OH) and I spent 10 days there in November, The problem that I have, is that I was so blown away by the whole experience that I haven't known where to start, or what to say.

 I was tempted to book the trip by some photos of the Tashkent metro stations that I saw on social media. I find it odd that I chose to book on such a whim. The rest of the trip far outshone the metro. Taking photos without a tripod and an empty station was challenging and unsatisfactory.

The metro stations are ornate and dramatic. Each has a theme.  Photography has only been allowed since 2018, as the stations used to have a secondary function as nuclear fall out shelters.

This one below, Kosmonavtlar, is about space exploration  and cosomonauts.

When I booked the holiday, I knew that we would be visiting cities from the ancient silk roads. Nothing prepared me for the breathtaking architecture found in the mosques, mausoleums, city squares and ancient madrasas ( colleges of islamic instruction).

From Tashkent, to Samarkand, and on to Khiva. So many buildings, so much beauty, and so easy to confuse them all after a whirlwind tour. I could dazzle you with ornate ceilings, walls and doors, but mostly I keep thinking about the people and the culture of the country that is about twice as large as the UK. 

The local tourists were as fascinated by us as we were with them. They were very friendly, and just as obsessed with their mobile phones as we were.

The younger generation are learning English as well as Uzbek and Russian, and were keen to practice on us by asking us for our telephone number and suggesting that we call each other ...... we politely declined.

​We were warned before we travelled that the diet consists mainly of meat, and that the local dish, Plov, a lamb, rice and vegetable dish is greasy and heavy.

So we were surprised to find that to he contrary, there were many options for delicious vegetables and salads, as well as the predicted kebabs and plov. Locals eat plov at least once a week, so it was interesting to see that you can buy pre-prepared carrots and potatoes in the local market. No plastic bags or cellophane wrapping in sight......!

The main reason to visit Uzbekistan is to visit the cities that formed part of the ancient Silk Road between the east and the west. We were bamboozled with historic facts wherever we went. A history that was unfamiliar and complicated. I found it hard to take it all in.

Mosques, mausoleums and madrasas, all built to impress with their blue tiles that denote wealth. Overwhelming in their scale and beauty. 

​We struggled with the local currency. One UK pound is 16,000 Uzbek Som. We needed 2000 som for a visit to the local 'facilities'. That's a loo, bathroom, restroom or WC to you, and is about 12 pence. in UK money. We held on to 2000 som notes wherever we could.

I was transfixed by the cloud formations in Tashkent. They seemed unlike any that I have seen in the west.

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We heard about family culture from our wonderful guide, Lochin.

He explained that when a girl marries she is not supposed to smile at her wedding, as she should be sad at leaving her own family. We saw many very miserable looking brides. The grooms looked pretty serious too. 

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Another custom is related to finding a partner that you might wish to marry. You don't tell your parents that you have met 'the one', instead you place a carrot on your father's shoe.

The youngest son of the family traditionally lives with his parents and his own family. This ensures that the parents have support as they get older.  A very different attitude to many western families.

I remember much more about these little details of daily life than the exploits of a fourteenth century adventurer. OH will have taken in all of the history and added it to his already extensive personal library of historical facts. I blame Mrs Newsome, my secondary school history teacher. She has a lot to answer for. And unlike most of my teachers I remember her name, and what she looked like. Short, with orange hair......

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I was struck by the cleanliness and feeling of safety in Uzbekistan. No litter. No no-go areas. Street cleaners with hand made brooms wherever we travelled.

​I felt very safe. A testament to the honesty of locals is the way in which street stalls are wrapped up at night; a simple cloth and some string. I yearn for a return to such values here in the UK. 

I have so many photos, so I will leave you with just a few favourites. My next task is to create a book of our trip before I forget names and places. 

There is work to do!

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I have a problem. A big problem.

I have had to replace my ageing and failing mac with a brand new version, but for 2 weeks it has been sitting unopened in its box. My other half (OH) keeps asking me when I am going to open it. I reply 'when I am ready '.

The reason that I am not ready is because I possess way too many photos, and the thought of sorting them out to get them safely stored on a combination of the new mac and external hard drives feels like an organisational mountain right now. I am not ready to face the mountain; it feels huge.

This is all my own fault. I have my images neatly organised into folders of events and year, but I rarely cull my images. Actually never. Each time I sit down to attempt this, I get drawn into a trip down memory lane. I find images that remind me of all the projects I have thought about over the years, and after deleting maybe five or six I end up processing an old one, or feeling so overwhelmed by the enormity of the task that I give up and find something else to do, even cleaning.....

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I have a technique for finding images that are buried under a pile of 66,999 images, and that I have totally forgotten about.

I type today's date into my library and look for files that have a name that includes the numbers in the date. For example, yesterday was the 9th of October, so I type 910 into the search panel  and up pop all the images with 910 as part of their filename. I find it a good way to look back through the thousands, without any bias . A lot of surprises pop up. 

​For example the image below is from a walk that I took in my local woods during which I chucked photographs of nature into the pond and hung them from fences and trees. Yes, I know that sounds crazy. But I had fun doing it, and I cant really recall why I felt this urge. 
I probably had an idea for a new project, but as with many of my ideas, it went nowhere.

And that is OK.

​Life would be a lot duller without a few crazy moments alone in the woods.

Also from this '910' search are all of the photos included in this blog article. Below is another one where I question my sanity. At the time I was studying for an MA in book art, and that did tip me into a slightly deranged state of mind. I never did complete the MA, but that's another story.
​Life is too short to spend time not enjoying learning.........

​And then there was another burning desire fulfilled; to hang ribbons from a tree and capture the effect of the wind. That was a one day wonder, and no birds or bushes were harmed in the process.

.Some incredibly happy memories appear in the search.

​For all of these images I remember so well the taking. The making.

​ They trigger memories that were locked away, possibly for ever.

Several are from my first artist residency where I wandered the streets and footpaths taking hundreds of photos of water., and which led to the creation of my book 'If I only had more time'. Three weeks went so quickly, and I wished I could have stayed longer, hence the  book's title.

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So how to manage all of these photos? 

What I really need to do is have a massive cull, and get rid of the many duplicates and similar images. Even better would be to be much more ruthless in my initial uploads, deleting all but the best. Going forward this could work, but for now I need about a week of screen time to manage the task of culling and transferring a select few to the new computer.

I know from experience that projects that don't get done soon after a trip or journey are unlikely ever to be realised. All of my videos from Alaska still lie waiting to be made into a major motion picture movie. Likewise my Latin American journey is more than worthy of a book, but I am now forgetting the details. It is becoming too late.

Making photo books is the best way to create tangible memories in my humble opinion. 
They truly represent my view of the world. 

So here's a plan;

1. spend a week culling in bite sized chunks.
2. spend another choosing which folders are worth keeping
3. spend another week listing all the unmade projects that are worth pursuing
4. Make sure that I have my photos backed up in three places; home, studio and cloud.
5. be brave; get the new Mac out of its box.
6. Transfer just the last three years of images onto the new Mac
7. Load up the new Mac with my image processing and publication software
8. START BEING RUTHLESS!

So let's make a start......

Three for the bin. One keeper.
Only 66,996 decisions to go.

​Please wish me luck!  I could be gone for some time......