Singing dogs

I reached the party in Glastonbury last night, but I was running late and arrived at just in time for dinner. P hosted us in her house only a few hundreds yards from the Tor. It is a great setting for party, with her large windows overlooking the stepped back garden with a vanishing pool and stepped flower beds above the vegetable garden in the old orchard. Beyond you can see twenty miles across the Somerset levels to the distant hills.

Much fun was had, and I caught up with friends I have made over the last forty years, since I first met Dave T., who introduced me to his network of friends. We gathered again as we did last summer, when we acted on the last orders of Sarah P, who had died a few months before, after a long life of fun. Her nephew, Harry started the year on New Years Day by arranging the date of this party in their busy schedule. Sarah lived for many years in the occasional company of many of us in a succession of her big houses, from Gloucestershire to Normandy and finally in central France.

I don't see many of them for most of the year, but when we meet we all seem to quickly gel together to share anecdotes, drink, food and laughter. I was kindly offered a bed at Jamie and Francis' house only a few hundred yards down towards town. But we didn't get there till about 4am.

This morning started with a proper breakfast, serious coffee and gentle post-hangover chat. Josie, their daughter, came down last in a surprisingly chipper state all things considered, as she didn't get home till much later.

We dashed off to meet up with the other 25 people from last night scattered around various local houses. Daryl and Terence like last year had prepared lunch for us all at their house about 10 miles away by the Somerset Levels proper, with a big house and garden. We carried on, without drinking alcohol this time in my case, enjoying the reviving food. Several people had brought contributory desserts, which broke my no-alcohol rule, but I didn't mind.

Coffee was brought out to the garden, as was my camera. Sitting under a wisteria tree with a bunch of laughing friends, I heard Jamie and Francis' two dogs starting to sing, in the way I imagine wolves used to do. They are mother and son of an old traditional breed which is nearly dying out sadly, being a type of short-haired collies.

Their daughter Josie, who had been sitting calmly on a blanket, seemed to be inciting them to sing for several minutes. JC, who I only met last year through his partner, Harry, was somewhat non-plussed. It was a toss up between which moments I captured, but this picture won.

As I left, dear Dave T. came up to me with a present of one of his pictures I had always admired, of an elderly Burmese man in Maymyo, Burma in 1983, the year after I had visited the same town. Dave was a photo-journalist for many years based in Hong Kong, from where he travelled widely. He told me that he has an exhibition of his photographs again next week in Totnes, where he now lives with his wife Angie. I think his pictures are wonderful. this is his website.

The picture Dave has given to me is the fifth picture in Gallery A.