Be informed

I probably once aspired to be a good amateur photographer. I remember using my first camera (though I cannot remember what it was) given to me by my father when I was about 10. Roll film was expensive and developing even more. So I did not take too many pictures. But the ones I did reflect something about who I was going to be. For example, I took a picture of a Bristol Lodekker in Scarborough. It can be dated by the advertising – Val Doonican and Dailey and Wayne to 1976 (I was 12 years old). I was fascinated by buses. Actually, I was fascinated by bus systems (I learnt to read the 24-hour clock from a bus timetable).

I do wish that I had taken more photographs of my eras. To the right is an incidental picture of the building of the Humber Bridge. This is the tower on the north side of the estuary being erected. It is the only one I have of the actual construction.

I have a raft of pictures of my youth. My time campaigning against animal suffering. These were taken in the days before social media and surveillance. I will not share these pictures; none depict activities that might be seen as unlawful. They are of demonstrations, meetings and social events. But I would not subject my friends and comrades to exposure, however long ago events.

In that period I used a Praktika PLC3 SLR. Praktikas were heavy had 42mm threads. They were not state-of-the-art. Whilst I drooled over Canon and Olympus SLRs, I went for a Praktika because it was not a Japanese brand. At the time I was traumatised by whaling – and the Japanese were some of the worst offenders. It was a protest (though endorsing the GDR at the time was perhaps not any better ethically).

I left it all behind and went back into education. With no A-Levels and I went to Northern College in Barnsley on a scholarship from my trade union, ASTMS (Association of Scientific, Technical and Managerial Staffs). It was a 2-year residential based in a stately home in a valley looking over the M1. It represents a time of great happiness for me – the freedom to study and to be confronted by my arrogance, naïveté and immaturity. The grounds were awesome. The castle in the background is simply a folly. More importantly, just the concept of a 2-year residential studying labour and trade union history blows my mind.

I then went unplanned to Norwich UEA. A brutalist concrete monstrosity. Which I love it for. I spent so much time in the library (which can be seen in the background of this campus square photo). It is autumn 1989. It is a time of student resistance to loans. I now work in a university – I could not have imagined that in 1989. My belief in the value of a university education independent of career opportunities so demanded by governments and policymakers is deeply embedded. It changed my life. It should be allowed to do so for young people today.

After completing my BA, I stayed in Norwich and endured 2 years of unemployment punctuated by life modelling at the nearby art college. That was a dare by a friend who was – and hopefully still is – a very handsome man. In the end he did not pursue it as a career, unlike me. I learnt a lot doing life modelling about how others perceive us/me. Being a life model is tough. Physically. It provided me with some self-confidence and willingness to use my body in protest and for art. For example, I participated in a naked protest against the Iraq War. I was also one of Spencer Tunick’s models when he did one of his famous shots in London in 2003.

And then on to my PhD studies. This was pre-digital study. No PC. Lots of books and newspaper subscriptions. The newspapers would arrive 2 or 3 days after publication. I needed the Glasgow Herald for my case study. The CJA poster on the wall belies my ongoing life of demonstration. The Criminal Justice Act was an affront to freedom of expression.

Nevertheless, I felt so privileged to have a desk and access whenever I wanted. It was great. Style-wise, I did not have very much. Most of the time I was in jogging pants. In this picture (probably 1996) I was half decent. During this period I met a number of people who became close friends and others, whom I am no longer in touch with, but who showed me kindness and offered support. Again to maintain discreetness, the names are not for sharing. With one friend I shared a number of long-weekend adventures in national parks. We stayed in youth hostels, prepared gourmet meals in the evening and critiqued books afterwards, often to the chagrin of other hostellers. On the books, we agreed to read Penguin classics, partly because they were cheap (a mere
£1) and also because…well…they were classics.

On one of our trips to the Brecon Beacons the weather was awful. Towards the end of our first day I slipped on a rock and went head-first into a stream that had become a torrent. I split my lip very badly. My companion did her best to stick the broken bits together again as I had flatly refused to go to A&E. We never visited Wales again.