People watcher

The very sight of smoke makes me choke. Steam rising into a clear, cold morning sky on the other hand, asks to be photographed.

Until I purchased a home in Upstate New York, I lived in suburbia. The first 8 years of my life were spent in London, so that was the sort of environment I was familiar with and where ultimately I found employment.

Holidays, however, had introduced me to the country and seaside which I came to appreciate more and more as time went on.

Since my escape from the suburbs 7 years ago, you couldn’t drag me back.

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Occasionally, medical appointments take me to Albany or Glens Falls which is as close as I ever wish to get now to a city. Having said this, I cannot deny that many cities are quite beautiful and that there is much to be said for the availability of museums, theatres and historical buildings. Even modern construction can be attractive.

Bridges, fountains and parks. Rivers, canals and market places. I enjoyed them all once.

There’s a lot of enjoyment to be had sitting in a street side cafe people watching. Or at least there used to be. The press of crowds now I think is too intimidating. Too many people are angry, likely to take exception to your harmless interest.

How glad I am to have spent my youth in a time when you did not need to automatically distrust everyone. It was wise to keep your wits about you and not to believe all you were told, but I always felt quite safe talking to ordinary people that I met.

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While in Pakistan, we went up to Peshawar near the Afghanistan border. We couldn’t go to the Khyber Pass, but a driver said he would take us as close as possible and briefed us what to say if we were stopped by the police.

We were on our way to Kohat, I think, rather than Bara which is where we really went. I think that’s where the above photograph was taken. If we saw anything we weren’t supposed to, I can’t imagine what it was.

We did a lot of walking when on holidays like that, away from the tourist route whenever possible. I don’t remember people ever being unfriendly anywhere.

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People watching is something I began doing as a child when I rode the underground in London. I was often scolded for staring but it wasn’t intentional. I simply found people’s faces interesting, especially if they were different. It’s hard to believe now, but when I was a child most people in London looked more or less like my family.

We tended to sit on one of those long seats facing the other side of the carriage, so I had a line of faces to scrutinise and always smiled, disappointed when people didn’t smile back.

Those who noticed probably thought I was half-witted.

Maybe I was – half-witted. I used to worry about people who didn’t smile, as I thought that meant they were unhappy and I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone being sad.

When I was about 7, my teacher came to class one day and told us that we were to stay seated and be silent! Clearly, she was not happy and muggins felt she must cheer the woman up. So I left my desk, marched up to my sad teacher and announced that I was going to have tea with Sheena that day, because I just knew it would put a smile on her face.

Surprisingly, it didn’t.

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Having no experience with them, I usually avoid children – noisy, scary little creatures.

But not all. Asian children melted my heart.

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Who could resist these little kids, for example?

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This little lad attached himself to us, carrying Tim’s camera bag as we wandered about. I shall never forget that beautiful face with the smiling eyes. I wanted to scoop him up and protect him from all of life’s hardships. I wished he could always be as happy as he looked that day.

Doesn’t that face lift your heart?

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all look at each other this way?

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