Friday, July 9, 2010


Cat/house-sitter arranged? Check. All the blades in the checked baggage? Not yet (can't be too careful). Cool little flat on the Plateau rented? Oui. Physically and mentally ready for a week of serious food and beer consumption (amongst other pastimes)? Fuck, yeah!

Here're a few shots from previous trips to my spiritual (and eventually physical) home.

Friday, July 2, 2010

The Crank

"I want all my fucking tips back for the last two years, you fucking prick; and I'm never coming back to this fucking place ever," said Shaughan Williams, long-term patron of the lamentably-defunct John Shippey's Brewing Company, upon being told that lighting a cigarette in the bar was the last of many straws that marvelously drunken February night. Fortunately, "ever" meant for a couple of days, and I could continue photographing one of my favourite subjects, and the inspiration of my style.


I like diners: they're quick, cheap-ish, and usually have interesting photo ops. The Ardmore has a generally spectacular chocolate shake, the eponymous (and magnificently unhealthful) Melt, and excellent fries; Johnny's (with a much more homemade feel overall) has a great club, chickenburger, fish and chips, soups, and fucking great pie (apple, banana- and coconut-cream). And the crew at Johnny's mind my folks pretty closely when they're there.

Yesterday, we went to the Ardmore for brunch. I had steak-and-eggs to go with the my shake, and while they weren't like the pommes frîtes (which, in combination with the blueberry pancakes and a cappuccino and smoothie went a good way toward to solving the odd bout of alcohol poisoning) I used to get at Sebastien's, they were food-ish; and I got this shot.