Why do we call June 21st Midsummer’s Night? Officially, June 21st is the start of summer, the first night of summer, not the middle of summer. Everything from March 21st to now has been spring. I know the sun is at its zenith and it’s all down hill from here but, please, let’s get it right. This could reasonably be called Midyear’s Night but not Midsummer’s Night. Midsummer’s Night would be round about 6th August. I blame Shakespeare, personally, though I suppose accurate titles such as Start of Summer Night’s Dream or Midyear Night’s Dream just wouldn’t have worked terribly well, would they? Or maybe the Druids are to blame with their sunrise and Stonehenge fixation. So, I’m going to call it Misnomer Night ‘cos it isn’t midsummer anything and it’s less clutzy than Start of Summer’s Night. Blasted poets!
Now that’s straightened out, there’s a little road on our development here in Spain that has been drawing me to it at night, simply because the street lights run up and over a hill – the Spanish are very fond of hills – in what I find to be an attractive manner. The trouble is, other than the hill and lights, there’s not a lot of content for a photograph. I went down with battered and bruised new camera and took a quick snap just as a trial line-up shot. Sure enough, decent looking road but where’s my content?
Enter Francine playing the role of Miss Nomer for Misnomer Night, needed to lean alluringly against the far left lamppost dressed as brightly as possible. OK, what I could do with is a really bright splash of colour like a startling red dress, or maybe yellow, but the nearest my cooperative Francine could dig out of the wardrobe was pink. It’s fine, perhaps a little softer and less brazen. Such was her dedication that she even staggered up and down the hill in heels a couple of times clutching the wine bottle and glass that I insisted on her using as props. This was because I’d chosen to use the old camera, sans dents, this time and unfortunately it didn’t seem quite as cooperative when it came to giving me what I was after. Francine helped out.
OK, camera more or less sorted, Miss Nomer back to holding up the lamppost and … snap.
It’s definitely a work in progress. I need to hone this. I had been hoping that the opposite streetlight might cast more light on Miss Nomer’s face. I think a little off-camera flash secreted just off set may have helped but I haven’t got one. We had a laugh though with a very rarely posed shot.
Oh, I should also point out that, on the road between Benissa and Teulada there are regularly what I would most politely describe as two or three working girls. My Miss Nomer is definitely NOT intended to resemble one of those. More of a party-goer, than just a goer. 😀
I think you may get comments, Francine, but hopefully no bookings. How on earth did you come to have high heels? I am impressed at such sartorial elegance.