Elliott In Later Life
I took a car ride out to one of the woods around the area in which I live this afternoon. It's near an oil refinery, of all things. There should be a law against that. Oil refineries in the middle of a woodland area. But I digress. It was pretty miserable in terms of subject matter. I spent about 40 minutes walking around a rather open area with a lot of sparse trees covered in very think green moss.
None of that in this post however, because a gentleman in his (lets try and guess his age) mid fifties cycled up to the gate of the forest and greeted me with a very strong Devonshire accent. He asked me what I was taking photographs of. For a split second, I thought "Oh Jesus not again. Not another busy-body wanting to stop me from taking photos". What was I taking photos of? Well I had to stop myself from saying to him "well in about 20 seconds, I'm going to be taking a few photographs of you, so get on your bike and start peddling mate!". Luckily, after ensuring him that he wasn't going to be getting in my way if he continued on his, he set off into the distance and I was able to catch him in the act.
I'll name him Elliott after, well, you know who else rode a bike and was named Elliott, don't you?
