Mistaken Identity.

I've purchased the DVD, "Finding Vivian Maier" by accident. I'd looked Miss M. up on Amazon recently, come across the film and put it on my wish list while I considered whether or not to order it. When Mrs TD put in an order the other day, she include the contents of the list; the rest, as they say, is history. At this stage I would like to put your minds at rest, she was using my money.

I had a quick look at the film this morning, I wanted to pass it on to other members of the cinema group before our meeting on Monday to see if it would be considered suitable fodder for our clientele. I ended up watching it from cover to cover; I don't think it will be appearing on our programme, it's rather too specialised a topic. Miss M. was a strange lady, probably somewhere in the autistic spectrum, a nanny by profession and an anal retentive by persuasion. She hoarded newspapers, mementos, and when she died five years ago, she left 100,000 pictures on unexposed films and another 50,000 negatives. Her acquaintances, she didn't seem to do friends, knew she was rather strange but not the extent of her obsessions. Remarkably, for a humble nanny, she used the best camera of her time, a Rolleiflex, and her photography was of the highest standard. She made the most of the waist level viewfinder, walking up to her subject, composing the shot, focussing and finally, making eye contact before pressing the button.

You can buy prints of her work - if you're rich, the proceeds of the sales going towards funding the exploration of the remaining undeveloped films.

I felt inspired and found myself shooting a lot of pictures when I took Merlin out for his walk. I chose this particular one because I thought I was blipping what I know as the "bird's nest gall" that is common on birch trees, its real name is witches' broom and is caused by a fungus; when I looked at it this evening, I realised that it really is a nest, probably a squirrel's dray, something I have never seen before. The surprising thing is that it is only about eight to ten feet above the ground.