The summer season in Weymouth doesn’t really start until Easter so not many of the little ice-cream kiosks and other seasonal attractions were open, the tiny fairground on the prom didn’t even turn its lights on for Friday’s evening.
Saturday livened things up a bit, sort of as if it were a dress-rehearsal for the following Easter weekend. Wheels span and cogs turned, the horses merrily went round and the little cars dodged back and fore. I could see there was a picture to be taken, but couldn’t quite find the one I wanted.
Sunday morning arrived. We took our last wander along the prom in the sea air, the sun shone from a different direction while the fairground folk unwrapped the merry-go-round from its overnight covers. The gardener/security guard/caretaker gave me a quizzical glance as I squeezed through the bushes and climbed up onto a low wall, then with my head almost reaching the blossom on the branches above me, click went the camera.
Lots of my favourite photos are a result of being in the right place at the right time, but I’m also starting to find that many of them are also a case of putting myself in the right place at the right time too.
More from before: various visits to “Weymouth“.