You are looking toward Seatown and West Bay in Dorset, from a vantage point close to Lyme Regis Museum. Bar the tumbled rocks of the coastal defences (bottom left) this view might be quite similar to that which the dinosaurs most likely ignored way back before they were fossils.

“Might be quite similar”. Probably not.

I imagine some Dimorphodon, perched on a rock (did pterosaurs perch?) staring out towards the far cliffs, contemplating the beauty in the patterns created by the waves…

Could that have happened? Probably not.

——

The ten exposures (tripod-based this time) do a grand job of showing how the current swerved around the curve of the coast.

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This is what time looks like. No, really.

I'm never quite sure where one second ends and the next begins. Is it at the beginning of the tick or the end of the tock? Or is it somewhere in the middle? Might that uncertainty go some way to explaining how we're already halfway through February? How it's actually 2022? How albums I bought when they came out (and still enjoy) are now over 40 years old?

Anyway. Even though we have no idea about time, we do like clocks here at No.43. So here are ten of them, all occupying the same space but at slightly different times.

And, after I'd put them together, the fact that there are ten of them made me think of that scene in Casablanca, where Carl, the waiter at Rick's, is seated at the table with Herr and Frau Leuchtag. They are explaining that they only speak English now, so that they will be ready for when they reach America. Herr Leuchtag addresses his wife,

"Liebchen... err... sweetnessheart... what watch?"
Looking at her wrist, Frau Leuchtag replies, "Ten watch".
"Such much!", says he in return, eyebrows raised.

Carl adjusts his waistcoat and says, "You will get along beautifully in America".

It's over forty years since I first saw Casablanca. If only I'd waited a couple of hours more to take these pictures...

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Once you've had a bit of rope (see previous post) then you also need a bit of a meter. Here's a particularly good one.

As Seen at the Amberley Museum & Heritage Centre.

Thought for the day: Treasure your photographic archive, for it contains good things that you may have forgotten about.

Tags:   big dial square-on meter dial electricity power monochrome

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Who was Jane Smith? Judicious interneting has yielded the following, admittedly paltry set of facts:

Born in 1724 to one George Parker of Amberley Castle.
Died in 1780 (we can tell that much from the monument).

Married a Mr. William Smith at some point. There's quite a bit about him and his various exploits on the web, but that's not what we're after. No. So really, we're left with the following from the memorial:

"She was universally beloved, universally regretted and distinguished by uncommon powers of genius and understanding."

Sounds good enough to me. 'Yay' for Jane Smith I say.

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Very shortly after I’d taken the slow shutter-speed shot of the water, this chap ran along the edge of the bathing pool and simply leapt into the churning sea and paddled off in search of his wave. I just managed to crank up my iso enough to catch him and I fired off a couple of shots. It all happened so quickly.

This is a composite of the two images.

Bude bathing pool on Summerleaze beach, after sunset. Winter.

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