A bit of history, naturally and a Man Cave

"Catherine, come and see this" called my cousin Barrie into the living room of their home of wife Karen, sons Cory, Kyle and Cameron (lots of "c" sounds and then there's Barrie). Handsome Barrie's life represents the great American dream: from Auntie Angie's humble beginnings upon arrival in New York in the 50s, to Grandson, Kyle's $120k sponsorship for academic excellence to attend The College of the Holy Cross, Massachusetts. A top college for liberal arts to study political science with ambitions already for his developmentally focused masters and then a state role in the Peace Corp. How can anyone know what they want to be when they're grown up when they're 18. I've only recently decided what I want to be when I'm grown up and I'm 41. He will also spend a year of his studies at Trinity, Dublin, my dad's home town, St Andrew's or Oxford. Oh my.

"Come..." and I jumped up from showing one of the novice photographer guests how to use their Nikon 3000 previously unknown to me, with all its beautiful first time SLR gadgetry (I was trying to liken the effects of aperture as a tiny hole you would look through with your hands to see further into the distance by cutting out refractive light as opposed to a wide open aperture which would let in too much light and therefore render the background out of focus when there it was, a little moveable icon on the display that did the same effect: wow!).

Barrie, aged 50, was taking me in to see his Man Cave. Inside the man cave sat a huge projector screen, the one which his cousin on his wife's side was showing the first season of Lost. And Reuben Jack was named after Jack the Dr so seeing Matthew Fox's exquisite face up on screen was a real treat. The projector had been in the garden where Kyle had made a big presentation and announcement of the college he would be attending, all neighbours and family members waiting in eager anticipation after 8 college acceptances. I was by myself, the boys put to bed at home and he pulled out the leg rest from an armchair (this is a sumptuous man cave) and grabbed me a beer. I remembered back to '89 when I first crossed the Atlantic during my university exchange and stayed with Auntie Angie. Back then, Barrie and Karen took me to Disneyland for the first time along with a niece of theirs who was now all grown up with babies of her own. The man cave had a log cabin feel to it, all exposed brickwork and joists which held American state car license plates from the 60s and 70s. Cameron aged 13 today is a stunning musician, playing a riff from a first hearing and his guitars and amps decorate the lower part of the walls. Auntie Angie poked her face through the door and I beckoned her to come and snuggle with me under the blanket and enjoy some sparkling wine.

Outside the man cave sat Barrie's '68 Mustang in sea green, painted only twice in its lifetime and owned by Barrie for 30 years. The car born the year of my birth. I will be taking some senior shots of Kyle as a send off and picture the car perched along the Pacific Coast Highway in wide angle, all spanking chrome, vintage dials and perfect. Barrie's always been a man's man, but was touched "a woman could appreciate" his beauty's beauty.

I felt gloriously at home and didn't leave til way into the early hours of the night.

That was last night. Today a trip to the Natural History Museum in LA along with my heavy big fella lens and a dead battery. Always a great idea. Before the day was done, dinosaurs, polar beers and fossils behind us, I found a spare battery in the car and thus this, from a little runaround with the boys caught in the grounds outside. I rose later than usual after being a dirty stop out last night at Barrie's. The day was hot and left a sweaty haze hanging. Barrie called me in the midst of this at the museum, most unusually, and just reiterated that they were there for me, a great comfort to me.