basil fawlty of photography

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basil fawlty of photography, who would have thought! I was recently gallery sitting and I know it is something I enjoy doing; displaying my work and realising ... "hey this is my work.!"... sometimes I struggle,,, :)

But I am now realising that I am becoming a GOP, one of those 'Grumpy Older People'... something many friends and family have been saying for a while but of course I am in complete denial and think I have the same exuberance for the general public that I had twenty years ago.

It was a rocky start to the morning, my start-up coffee was not as I usually like. Probably stirred to the left and not the right.

I open the doors to the 'Sacred Place' and two people appeared behind me as if they were beamed up from some fourth dimension and asked if I was open. I told them not yet and for insurance purposes they had to come back in 20 minutes when I had properly setup. Truth was I had not finished my, incorrectly prepared, coffee and did not want anyone to enter my sacred space until I was well and truly ready.

To my surprise, and with recent World Cup (German) host precision, they came back at the 'designated' open time.

While walking around, they asked the standard questions... " Are these your photographs? Did you take these photographs? Are they digital?"

I always think my retort should be... "No, I stole these photos, and thought they were good enough to pass off as my own. Digital?... don't know... I would have to check with the actual photographer".

But of course I answered, masking my agitation of the question I had heard from 100+ people over the last 2 days.

Mid morning and I turn to the door and I see a man standing there looking into the gallery but not entering. I motion for him to come in and he said he wanted to but did not want to pay admission. I informed him that it was free and he mentioned to his friend in the nicest of English (Kent) accents that it was free and they should go in.

His friend, after viewing 4 of the 35 images hung, approached me and asked me if they were mine, to which I replied, "yes they were".

She walked back and viewed another 3 and tuned and asked.. "Did I take the photographs?"

Knowing that thoughts were turning into words and coming forth from my mouth, and with as much chance of stopping them as I would have in photographing a sunset using a cheese grater, I replied.. ''Um I think so!"

She continued perusing a few more images and when she came across ''Paris Rain", turned to me and asked... ''Where was this taken?"

Without a thought, very straight-faced and without any scent of sarcasm (or so I thought) ... ''that was taken in the main street of Kiama"...(Kiama is a small coastal village south of Sydney.).

She gave me a look that told me that she knew I was being a sarcastic GOP. I am not sure if she considered that it may have been a silly question, or that a particular photographer didn't get out of the happy side of the ded, she said nothing and walked back to the image but before she got there... turned and asked,.. ''have you been to France?"...

My reply was already loaded... . ''no, I took it on the internet... this new internet thing it is such a godsend for us Antipodeans that live so far from the rest of the world".

The delivery was with a genuine smile and rising eyebrows... kinda like the cat that swallowed the budgie but was choking on the feathers.

The Englishman continued perusing the images, and while viewing 'Block Arcade', turned, complimented on my work and asked the price of the particular piece.

I mentioned the price and they both continued to view the rest of the exhibition.

When finished, and as they left my sacred room, he said that he was interested in the image and would return tomorrow morning to purchase it. I thought... . yeah right... 'and the English will give the Elgin Marbles back to the Greeks'!

That had gone well ... considering I have a professional background in customer service management and had survived a season of photographing 3,000 screaming brats who had been taught their 'angelic' demeanour from their equally demanding 'little Johnny is so well behaved at home' parents while listening to overly loud and repetitive Christmas tunes doing Santa photography with at a city department store last year. (I still have nightmares over that!... but that is another anecdote..).

I went back to my second double cappuccino and my book... 'The World According to Jeremy Clarkson' (BBC Top Gear, The Times, )... he is the King of the Grumpy Older Men and the host of that great show 'Top Gear'. A great read but not the best mentor when one is dealing with the 'Hoi Polloi'

I thought... God only knows what they thought when they left... .. I was soon to share Gods secret.

The next day – a good nights sleep and my coffee was stirred the right way, I opened the doors to gallery. Safe, no one beamed-up to ruin the etiquette of the opening routine.

10 o'clock came around and so did my friends from the mother country... ready to purchase.

We got chatting and talked about travel, my time in the UK and what they thought of Australia. They both said they love the friendliness of Australians and the great service. (OMG... . thank God I am not in the diplomatic core)

After ½ hour of great chatting, I mentioned that I was a bit surprised that they returned to purchase as many people 'pee in your pocket' and say they would return to purchase... . and based upon my GOP attitude the day before... did not really think they would return... .

It was then they both laughed and confessed to me that they were highly amused when they left the day before and within a minute of departing they came to the mutual conclusion......Basil Fawlty was alive and well... living in Australia; owned a camera; took photos (his own); even exhibited them; and had in fact been to Paris.

We all burst into laughter.

They stayed for another hour sharing a chat over coffee. They even were impressed with how well I related to the other punters in the exhibition. What a difference a day makes; especially with a correctly stirred coffee.

While tinged with the sadness of saying goodbye to good friends, they left with image under arm.. A photograph I took in Melbourne, exhibited in Kiama, and sold with the aplomb of a Basil Fawlty, was going to England!

What a wonderful feeling! Basil the Photographer.

Now it has got me wondering... I think I need an assistant, and I will call him (or her) Manuel (Manuela)

PS... Thank you Mr Jeremy Clarkson... you are an inspiration... . (great book!)