Keith Chegwin is my brother

Really quick post, but had to share the big news.

My little brother Thad (short for Thaddaeus Jake Ford. Best. Name. Ever) ‘passed out’ today.  This means that he is now a fully fledged member of her Majesty’s Metropolitan Police force, and we are all mighty proud of him.  Apparently it was crazy hot in Hendon in London today, and a lot of people were literally passing out.  But not my little bro.  Not Teggy.  He is made of much sterner stuff.  Look – even when he is playing his trombone at a family wedding he can flash a charming smile and bash out some raspy low E’s without even breaking a sweat.

Totally gutted that we are over 4000 miles away and couldn’t be with you, but we were thinking of you Tegs and are very, very proud.

I can’t even begin to imagine how hard the job is, and you have worked even harder to get there.

 

Much like the great Keith Chegwin did himself…

 

But not even he can blow a bone like this:

 

 

Loads to post over the weekend.

x

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One of life’s miracles

So, as promised, I have loads and loads and loads to share with you all and have got a bit side tracked with work. (surprised?)  But I think it is fitting to write this blog today, because it is even the more relevant.

Oliver has come home.

Now, to most of you, that won’t mean a thing, but to Sarah, Den and Ryan who I have written about many times in this blog, it means the world.  It means the world because Oliver, or Ollie and Den and Ryan have now come to call him, is a genuine miracle.

I got a missed call from Den about nineteen weeks ago, which was bizarre – living out here in Barbados, we usually rely on Skype and the emailage to talk to each other to save the pennies.  So when I noticed it, I got the pit in my stomache…it’s never good news to get a missed call from the UK.

I called Den as soon as I could, and he told me that Sarah had been admitted to hospital.  There had been some complications with things.  He assured me that everything would be fine and not to worry.  But of course we did.  Massively.

It took me a few hours to work out how to tell Sian.

Sarah was at 21 weeks with Oliver, and was on bed rest in the hospital.

We rang and we rang and we Skyped and we called.

And after three weeks of the phoning and the emailing and the worrying and the sending of our love, I got another missed call at about 2 in the morning.

And it’s never good news to get a missed call from the UK.

But this call was.  Oliver was born at 24 weeks weighing in at just over a pound.  Den and Sarah sounded relieved, but there was still a very, very long way to go.  The little guy had massively under developed lungs, his eyes were not yet formed and he was just so small.

And so for the next few weeks, Sarah and Den and Ryan lived at the hospital.  They waited, and they nursed and they ground and they ground.  Den commuted and worked ridiculous hours,  Sarah was mum and nurse and everything in between and Ryan was, well, Ryan.  Amazing.  He never played up or got bored or kicked up a fuss.  Ollie was in hospital, so if he had to be there too, then so be it.  He really is an amazing little guy.

And all the while Ollie, as stubborn as his dad, as strong as his mum, as beautiful as his brother, just soldiered on.

And in the last six weeks, he has slowly grown.  He has been putting on weight, and he has been breathing on his own.  He is yet to reach his full term, but has proved to be strong enough and healthy enough to come home today.

And when you see him, and you see Sarah, and you see Ryan and Den;  no one talks about how tired they are – how they’re pissed off about work or about how expensive the parking is at the hospital.  And no one sees the tubes or the machines or the charts or the wires that have helped him along on his way.  All you can see, from ear to ear, are smiles of relief and genuine, genuine happiness.

Through Sarah, Den and Ryan’s tireless efforts, the world has been blessed with another little Ashworth…and although I did not think it possible, I love them even more for it.

And I just can’t wait to play the grabber game with him…

Thanks for reading guys – I will let the pictures do the rest xxx

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Carefree Friday…and a weekend to look forward to :)

I have been reading through my past few posts, and have realised that this blog is becoming less and less about photography, and more just a diary of our goings on of late.  I am also aware that pretty much every post I write starts off with ‘how busy we are at work’, which is very true, but I guess it can’t be much fun for you guys to read!  It is also worrying Sian and me that we are working far, far too much, and not playing nearly enough.

And that’s where last night comes in.

I was rushing back to the hotel for a meeting I had scheduled, only to receive a call to be told it was cancelled.  So I called Sian and we hatched a very last minute plan to catch the end of the football.  Racing back and parking up, we met and ran to the nearest bar .  Ordering a bucket of Carib and perching on ridiculously high stools, we sat down just in time to see Danny Welbeck’s (AMAZING) goal.  And we knew from that moment that we were going to have a good night.

Sian and I do love watching sport here  in Barbados, as it is one of the only countries in the world that supports England in its endeavours…we are normally unsupported by even our closest neighbours like my good Scotch pals and the Welsh, and usually when in a foreign land there is a lot of resentment to us doing well at anything.  But the Bajans love England, and it feels like home when you are stood cheering with 30 odd strangers as Danny Welbeck falls over and somehow manages to back heel the ball in.

We forgot about work, and moving, and all the stresses of the last few weeks…and had an awesome night.  It started with the football, and then a curry, and then some Caprinhas, and then some wine and then some beers and then some dancing, and then some broken flip flops, and then some walking, and then some singing and then some burgers, and then some chips, and then some walking…no, staggering,and then in the very very very early hours, some sleep.

We haven’t done this in years…and it was so, so fun.

And then my brain did that horrible thing.  It woke me up.  It woke me up bang on time for work at 7 am.

Why? 

Why does my body punish me so?  During the week, the prospect of waking up at 7 and dragging myself from bed is an impossibility.  I need at least two snoozes on the alarm and a lengthy discussion with Sian about who’s turn it is to make the tea this morning before even contemplating waking up. But on a Saturday, the first we have had off in months, and when we have gone to bed at 4am, 7 o’clock is clearly the most natural time in the world for my body clock to rise.

But, to be honest, despite the lack of lie in, a pounding head, and my mouth tasting like a tin mine,  I can’t be that cross with myself…because the site that I wake to is simply gorgeous.

I am wide, wide awake, and Sian is fast, fast asleep…

And we acted like teenagers last night.  And we laughed and we danced and we drank and we sang.  And now she lies here and I have to grab  my camera, and I realise that although I take pictures every day, I rarely take pictures of her…and I ask myself why?

And I promise myself I will.  I will take more pictures of my beautiful wife, and I will take more time off work, and I will try and enjoy life here in Barbados a little more over the next year…because that is the whole purpose of us finding each other.

Now, please excuse me, I am off back to bed with my hot date from last night.

Have a great weekend guys 🙂

x

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I’m Cat Man.

There is sooooooo much that has happened over the last few weeks, I don’t know where to begin!  We have finally (nearly) moved offices  which has been a little stressful to say the least, but the new Colorbox HQ is setup down on the South Coast and all (will be) well with the world within a few weeks.   On top of all that, we have been taking pictures of famous footballers, taking photos of famous socialites,  flown home to shoot a wedding, met two AMAZING babies that I have a billion piccies to share with you, experienced a little bit of Blighty during the Jubilee holiday (again – PICTURES TO COME), bought ourselves an immense new camera and the fourth and final lens to complete our incredible arsenal. 

Like I said – pretty busy.

I will go back and fill in all those gaps over the coming days and weeks, but for now, in the present, we are back in Barbados and well.  Our good friend Nicky and her boyfriend Angus have flown back for a bit of good old British Summer and so we stoically said we would look after her house and three cats.  Which is probably the most stupid thing in the world to do ever, because I am crazy allergic.

Seriously.

What was I thinking?

But despite the sneezing and the itchy eyes and everything else the wretched Feline does to me…they do make me chuckle.   Sian is amazing with them – there are two boys and a girl, so they fight and hiss quite regularly.  Sian won’t tolerate any bad behaviour and they seem to listen to her as she barks orders at them.  We have not been able to spend as much time at Nicky’s as we had hoped (yet) what with the move and the allergicing and everything else, but when we do pop in to see them it really is nice.  Sian was out on the veranda and saw ‘Mink’ (the mum), and called her in.  Mink did a double take at the site of someone being home.  She pelted across the garden to come and find Nicky.  She raced up the stairs and straight into the living room…only to be disappointed to find that her mum was still nowhere to be found, and had apparently been replaced by a rather heavy set man – leaking from every orifice on his face.  A defiant meow was all she gave me before turning her back and walking to Sian for a quick stroke.

But, the most comedy thing about these cats?…They don’t drink from the water bowl…oh no.  They will only drink running, fresh water from the tap. Don’t believe me? Here’s a snap from our spangly new camera.

Unhygenic? Probably.  Spoilt cats? Definitely.  Comedy gold? 100% absolutely yes.

Thanks for reading guys, and looking forward to catching up soon 🙂

 

xxxx

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The end of an era

As you all may (or may not!) have noticed, I have been very quiet lately – this is the first post in three weeks, and I am desperate to get something down before May runs out!

The reason for my complete lack of bloggage is, unfortunately, not due to swanning around the world with my beautiful wife to exotic locations, or because I have been preparing something utterly beautiful to share with you all…far from it.  It is because we have been handling our busiest month of the year on top of the very sad news that our home for the last two years has finally closed 🙁

Sian and I have been privileged enough to live and work at The Almond Beach Village in St Peter, Barbados for the last two and a bit years and now, finally, the rumours of financial strife and concerns have finally come to fruition…the hotel is closed.

 

And it is very sad.

 

I took these photos the day after the resort closed.  It was a bank holiday (National Heroes day) so, naturally, Sian and I were at work.  The resort just felt like a complete ghost town.  The fans were spinning, the lights were on, but not a soul in sight over the whole 23 acre site.  It was very weird.

I had no intentions of taking pictures that day – I was just moving a lot of stuff out of our now redunandant office and studio, but I felt I had to get something.  So I grabbed a work D7000 and pottered around…and it just made me even sadder.

This is the courtyard outside ‘Tommy’s Bar’.  Even when the resort was really, really quiet there would be people sat out enjoying the evening breeze and guzzling a rather foul rum concoction.  But the beer was the coldest on the island here – and always welcome after a long day.

Right at the end of this looooong corridor was where our beautiful photo studio once lived…

And at the end of this one was where we used to live…

And this is the pool where Ryan took his first few strokes into swimming entirely on his own.  We stood in a circle at the (very deep) area just behind the bridge; he took a massive breath and disappeared under the surface as he kicked his way across to a very relieved Uncle, Aunty, Mum or Dad…it was one of the many, many great times we had at ‘home’.

But all is not doom and gloom.  To say it has not been an operational nightmare (moving house is meant to be the most stressful things you can do – try moving offices at the same time!) would be an understatement, but we have moved now. We have a beautiful new apartment down on the South Coast in a new hotel, and our offices are going to probably work out better down on the South side too. I have also been overwhelmed with how well my team have coped with the frustrations and concerns that this whole saga has thrown up.  It could have been very easy for mistakes to be made, people forgotten about, weddings missed; but on the ground the guests have had absolutely no idea just how hard this last month has been.

And I love and thank the guys so much for that.

 

Thanks for reading guys – and hope to hit you with some more cheerful ramblings soon 🙂

x

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Hunte’s Gardens

As you all know, I love shooting weddings.  It’s the best part of the job out here in Barbados.

When I can get away from boring things like staff wages, VAT returns and fixing the never ending tirade of computer malfunctions and machine errors, there is nothing I like more than shooting a happy couple out in the sun.  And the only thing better than that is when we get to go somewhere new.

The business we are in relies heavily on Hotel world, and so we shoot 99.9% of our weddings in the same locations.  Don’t get me wrong – the locations are always gorgeous, and we are spoilt for choice when we shoot.  With gardens, water features, sugar mills and, of course those beaches to choose from, couples are always staggered with the shots and videos they receive.  But when we get a bride enquire about a wedding somewhere new, we all get a bit giddy at the thought of some new locations and the escape from our (idyllic) norm.

So imagine our delight when Sian received an email from an expectant bride asking about us shooting her wedding at the famous Hunte’s Gardens?  It is a well known spot, tucked away in the hilly area of St Joseph and without a doubt the best sign posted attraction in Barbados.  It always tickles me whenever we embark on an adventure like this – as we invariably get lost on the bumpy back roads when signs we have been religiously following for hours suddenly disappear…but fair play to Hunte’s – they are consistently dotted around the island, leading the horticultural-hungry tourists directly to the beautiful wrought iron gates.

A narrow pathway and greeted by a nice young man, and this is the site that awaits you.

It is beautiful.

Of course, being that we are professional photographers, and that we were coming to see the site namely for the sake of research, we picked the absolute worst time to go to the gardens.  As you will see from the ridiculously hard light, we got there at about 1pm – when the sun is at both its highest and hottest in Barbados…so you will have to forgive me with the crazy contrast and reflective palm trees – but it was our day off and we wanted to make the most of it…so I just gave it my best shot.

As we wandered down the narrow, steep path, you could literally feel the trees ‘breathing’ around us.  By the time we got to the bottom of the sink hole the garden lives in, the air was heavy with humidity, and the smells were all encompassing.

Sian’s hair was glad to soak up some of the moisture too, and within five minutes it had expanded a third in volume…which gave me something to chuckle about as the sweat began pouring off my face like a scene from Airplane.

And so for the next half an hour or so, we wandered around the beautiful gardens, nattering away about the endless possibilities, accompanied only by the songs of the nesting birds above, and the wind blowing through the palms.

It really is quite a place.

Despite the crazy-hard light we had given ourselves to work with, I am fairly happy with the shots we got on the day.  But one of the hardest things I found was conveying the sheer size of the gardens.  Although the grounds are not enormous in acreage, the site is so steep, and Mr Hunte has ingeniously used every available inch to maximum effect.  I am not a fan of this shot, but Sian is, and she is my harshest critic – so if it’s good enough for her then, well, it goes up on the blog:

After a while, we started to wander back up to the old plantation house that overlooks the epic gardens, safe in the knowledge that there would be a rum punch for us at the top of the hill.  That was what the literature said, and that was how Sian had convinced me to leave the cosy AC of home to embark on this little adventure in the first place.

Sian spotted this half munched leaf – obviously a hungry caterpillar – but clearly not a Frangipanni, as the leaf has barely been touched! I love how uniform the nibbles are:

As we approached the building, we were met with the most fabulous site – a fully dressed dining table that looked like something straight out of Narnia.  The whole thing was littered with dried flowers and palm leaves – I have never seen anything quite like it.

After a lengthy discussion of just how ever-awesome this venue would be for weddings, we finally got to the top of the hill, and were met by the wonderfully welcoming Anthony Hunte – the man himself.   Comfortably reclined in a huge sofa, Anthony was deep in conversation with two other visitors – Simon and Christine.  He invited us to sit and have a rum punch, and soon we began chewing the fat.  It was a fantastic afternoon.

And just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, Anthony unleashed his jewel in the crown – the cherry on the cake for this wonderful venue.

Flora.

Oh. My. God. This dog is awesome.  So awesome that even Sian: champion of Cats – resenter of the canine and slayer of all that drool, fell for her:

Flora did what all good dogs do for the rest of the afternoon.  She did the rounds and made sure everyone was where they should be – made sure her dad Anthony was being looked after by these strangers in her house, and then when satisfied all was well, would come and demand a cuddle from her master.

I am sure I am not the first visitor, and I certainly won’t be the last to Hunte’s that has thought about kidnapping that wonderful pooch.  She really is a corker.  And my camera loved her.

By the end of the evening, we had drunk far too many rum punches, taken far too many pictures of the dog, and had been eaten alive by the pesky sand flies.  At about 8pm we finally left our wonderful host and two new friends, a quick call for a lift home and the adventure sadly came to an end.

But we WILL return!

 

 

Thanks for reading guys x

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I’m Baaaack…and so is the piano!

It has been a mental few weeks (months?!) in Barbados, and I am glad to say that we have finally come home for a few days to enjoy some much needed R & R.  Since arriving home on Friday, we have been to-ing and fro-ing between London, Chichester and Croydon, and as I write this we are preparing for a jaunt up North to see our good friends Josh and Lyds who live in Manchester, then on to see Jenny and Tom in Sheffield, then up to Wetherby with even more marvellous chums for the wedding of the very fabulous Jo and Jonny…phew!

It has – and will be crazy hectic, but we are loving being back.

A few days before coming home, I rang my big brother Ed and asked if he would mind hosting a wee get together for Easter in his beautiful house in Chichester.  A wee get together quickly snowballed into thirteen, and true to form, Ed and his fiance Mel put on a wonderful spread and did a spectacular job of looking after us.  It was wonderful to be with the whole family again – everyone laughing, joking, shouting over each other, and all that good stuff that an old fashioned family reunion commands.

After dinner, my big sister Felicity (who I have written about before) asked Ed if he would mind her playing the piano, and for the next twenty minutes I was taken back to my childhood.

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When I was growing up, I was spoiled rotten for music.  My mum and dad are massively into brass, and from a very young age the slightest whiff of interest in anything relating to a treble or bass cleff lead to a trip to the music shop and instruments being hired.  We were so lucky.  So as I grew up and ran around our then massive house, the rooms echoed with Chopin and Rachmaninoff and Mozart and Strauss…and all really quite well.  It turns out that my brother and sister were quite gifted when it came to the piano, or flute, or trombone, or whatever they turned their hands to, but the piano was the soundtrack of our house.

That, along with the raucous laughter and ever present squeals of agony as we fought with one another…but that’s for another blog.

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And I genuinely lament when Flick moved out…the house fell a little quieter as our piano duo halved.  Ed stoically carried the baton for a few more years, but the day that he packed his little Fiesta to move to Reading was the day the music died.  Thad (my little brother) is an immense musician, but alas never took to the piano – and my biggest regret in life is giving up on the lessons that my mum and dad had organised for me all those years ago.

So, imagine my joy when Flick asked that question.  Judging by the looks on my mum and dad’s faces, I think they couldn’t have asked for anything better this year for Easter.

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As always, thanks for reading guys, and happy Easter 🙂

xxx

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Roberts Factory

The last few weeks have been pretty awesome.  We have made some friends, (Big blog to come!)  have had some great news in the family, and some not so great, but all in all we are very happy.

The other day, we had to visit Virgin HQ, and being Barbados, it was in the back end of nowhere.  As we negotiated the twists and turns of the fabled ‘highway 3’, we stumbled across a massive factory.  And I got a little excited.  As my frequent readers may well know, I have, unfortunately, inhereted my father’s penchant for the industrial tech. Trains, planes, boats – anything man made that can rust slightly and I get a little weak at the knees.  Very sad, I know, but that’s me.

I have a really vivid memory from about age 9.  We were on a family narrow boat holiday and we chugged through the heart of this massive, massive factory.  It was one of the most fascinating and eerie moments of my life.  Being 9, it felt enormous – there was steam and smells and noises, a thick film of foam scudded across the murky green of the canal, but despite all of the activity and bustle – there was not a sole in site.  It reminded me of the cover of Michael Jackson’s Dangerous which I actually had in my discman at the time…I was a very spoilt child…

But I digress.

Desperate to take a snap of this new found wonder in otherwise picturesque Barbados, I waited for dusk, bundled my exhuasted wife into the car, and headed to the factory.

I fired off a few frames, and think this is the best one.  Unfortunately there is a massive fence (obviously) around the factory, so I couldn’t get too close, but I like this wide shot, and it is soooo very different to what we normally see him in Bimshire!

As I was standing there, snapping away, Sian called out from the car that she could see millions of fireflies.  I turned to see what she was talking about, and all I could see was the glow of the car’s headlights:

I crossed the road to see what she was talking about, and was amazed by what I saw.  The entire meadow was alive with fire flies.  It really was a sight to behold.  As we stood and gazed out, the grass flashed and sparked with these amazing little creatures.

Being English, I have never seen Fire flies before, and was shocked at just how much they glow.  I tried my best t get a shot of the scene, but unfortunately I think this is one of those moments that you can see with your eyes, and not your camera.  I think a video of the meadow would have worked brilliantly, but the amazing D700 is a photo camera, nothing else.

As I say, I don’t think the photo does the scene justice, but if you look in the lower third, you will see the little yellow spots dotted between the blades of grass.  We stood and watched the field glow like a massive Christmas tree set, and very quickly, the factory seemed boring and pointless.

We enjoyed nature’s lightshow for a good while, got back into the car and headed home.

And once again, we had experienced yet another natural beauty of our new home land all because of the engineers at Nikon that built our wonderful, wonderful camera.

Thank for reading guys

x

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Wedding Videos

Hi guys,

Just a very quick link to our Youtube account (Colorbox Caribbean- www.youtube.com/colorboxcaribbean) We have had a crazy busy few weeks here, as ever, hence the lack of posts recently.  Anyway, please pop over to the Colorbox Youtube account and see some of the work we are doing out here.  This one is a wedding I shot with Charlie and Bill the other day – lovely couple and a lovely day, hope you all enjoy it 🙂

Thanks for reading – more posts soon, I promise!

Ferg

x

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The Humming Birds

In my last post, I talked about the family of monkeys that are setting up shop here on our resort, and how the baby – affectionately named ‘Monkini’ by my dear wife, is growing up at a rate of knots.  Well, just after that post, we had another family start anew on resort – this time in the form of the beautiful, if not tiny Hummingbird.

Here is mum, precariously perched on the end of a bush, in front of the sugar mill and undoubtedly on the busiest pathway in the resort.  We are all a little bemused as to why she would want to setup here, but it is not an uncommon place for the Hummingbirds to nest, so clearly evolution has a plan…whatever that plan is.

Anyway, mum is sat here, in front of the sugar mill basking in the shade and fighting the breeze that is coming in from the sea.  It is really difficult for me to portray just how tiny this bird is – I was hoping that the Sugar Mill would help give a little perspective, but as it is so far away, it actually makes her look even bigger!

To give you an idea, she is probably about 9cm long, beak to tail.  (That’s just 3 and a bit inches for our American friends) And her nest is just as slight.  I stood around at a good distance as she flew in and out of her nest, bringing back twigs and fluff to build her abode.

She would only leave for a few moments at a time, and a closer peak revealed why:

These two eggs are TINY!! Barely the size of a mento each, and left unattended for the briefest of moments whilst the nest is added to and mum eats…Why she picked such a busy and open spot for her nest again?  I have no idea…

So we now have (hopefully!) at least two families growing with us here whilst we soak up the sun and shoot our weddings.  I will keep you posted how our Hummingbird family get on, and will snap away at the monkeys as and when we see them.  I have a whole host of blogs to get round to, but wanted to get my David Attenborough bit out of the way first.

Massive thanks as always for reading guys, hit the subscribe button, tell your friends and generally be merry.

Will be back soon

x

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