Woman in Red

The weather here in the UK is magnificent and that's not a term I use lightly; frosty mornings followed by crisp, warm, sunny days. Spring has sprung and the wildlife is mighty confused. I am, of course, working inside a very large, dark room and so it's all passing me by.

My only taste of this unseasonal bounty is the lovely, misty view I get across the wasteland of the Olympics construction site to the skyscrapers of London's docklands as I make my way into work. I'd like to show you a suitable image but stopping on a flyover on the A12 is not the action of a sane man, or even one, like myself, whose nuts and bolts may be slackening off a little.

On a similar day last year, Pixie ventured out onto the pier at Whitby in Yorkshire. It's fair to say that she is not always a willing model, as witnessed by the look of suffering on her face. I can tell that my quest for the perfect reflection shot is not be being favourably received. Perhaps she was hungry or, judging by the bags she's carrying, eager to renew her assault on the charity shops.

As is so often the case, the only way I could get that picture with Pixie centred in the puddle was to hang in mid-air just off the pier, the North Sea boiling away under my feet.

It's a technique I've not quite mastered as yet.