Mono Monday - Pylons.

While Mrs TD was at (yet) another patchwork thing, this time in Kelso, I was on my jaunty way around the borders. At one stage I passed a sign saying, "Welcome to England" which conjures up a thought promulgated by The Goon Show some sixty years ago but would now be considered to be  politically incorrect (what ever that means). There was no sign welcoming me back to Scotland, perhaps the canny Scots wish to avoid The Goon Show Joke.

The day was damp and dreary when I wandered into this field. I have always hankered after a blip of a line of pylons receding into the distance, viewed through the legs of the nearest one, and have slowly come to the conclusion that the geometry just doesn't stack up to make it possible. This was the nearest that I could manage. The price paid was dear, my shoes were so clogged up with mud that they wouldn't clip into the pedals until I had found a stick and poked most of the stuff away, it wasn't an entirely satisfactory solution as my shoes kept dis-engaging on the hills; I suspect the proprietors of the various coffee shops along the road cursed me as well - it serves them right for serving drinks that were tepid and, in one case, very bitter, and the scones were stale.

For the first time since I last used a darkroom I have strayed into the world of mono - on a Monday too.