Say Fromage(part one)

I had some unexpected spare time yesterday so i flicked through my blog to see what I had been doing recently.

I was also concerned that I might have used the same photo twice- I hadn’t.

But as I flicked, and alleviated concern, I became aware that all my photos are the same; they are not the same image but the style is the same. On a good day I might describe that as “personal” on a critical day I might describe them as “all the same”.

So I stopped flicking, anyway my concern was back, and set off through the city streets to try and come up with something different.

At the top of the road there is a big wall that seems to say “keep out, private” but at the corner there is a gateway that is often open so I strolled in.

Actually I didn’t stroll - I strode purposefully; it was obvious that I really wasn’t meant to be there so I walked as if I belonged to the place. I even said good morning a couple of times in a “it’s me again” manner.

No one stopped me.

I was somewhere behind the train station, among the workshops, repair stations and maintenance depots; I was at the technical heart of the SNCF –French Railways.

I think my former status as a 13 year-old English train spotter gave me a slight legitimacy but I was clearly trespassing and stopping to compose artistic photos of rolling stock and their bits would only draw attention to my non-designation.

So I strode on until I had gone so far there was no turning back and now I was on the wrong side of the tracks in the main station.

I wouldn’t normally walk across a railway line – fear of electrocution and a strict suburban upbringing hinder me – but luckily France is in the grip of industrial strife at the head of which we find the rail workers.

There was not a train in sight.

I crossed the lines, didn’t get electrocuted and went down into the underpass that led to the deserted platforms.

to be continued