I’ve not dropped off the edge of the world; but I’m afraid my company may be in short supply for a while. OK, you don't have to look that pleased. Such a lot going on at work – we’re in the process of sorting out a mortgage and moving, we’re bidding for a new contract (I’ll worry about all the extra work that will bring if we get it) and the Financial Controller is off sick again. I told them that he’d come back to soon; but would they listen to me? Would they heck. So very busy last week, but nothing really funny to report.

My dad got up to his old tricks again, but the ‘training’ kicked in and I walked away, shutting the door – Oh OK, slammed the door – and didn’t go in to speak to him again all night. I was so angry too – it’s easier to get over the guilt of blanking someone if you can stay angry with them. Unfortunately, it still upset me and I spent a sleepless night in tears. Making sure I didn’t wake Himself up, as this time he was like a loaded gun, and far from happy. He’s very placid my husband – which is a good job as he balances me out – but even he has his limits. I’ve always told him not to get involved but this time he’d had enough of the way my dad speaks to me at times and told him as much. He felt that it was time that my father found out exactly what it was like when I did nothing for him, as he keeps throwing that one at me. Christ, if I did any more he'd never get out of his chair.

Never mind, water under the bridge now – although I reckon I should be up for a sainthood with the amount of patience I’ve got. I’ve been told I’m too nice, being polite and ignoring rudeness can lead me to becoming a door mat – and I’m starting to see very clearly their point of view. Things are changing – and for the better as far as I’m concerned. It helps that my friends keep telling me that, I know I spend too much time putting everyone else’s needs in front of mine and then feeling guilty if I say I can’t do something straight way.

And so to this weekend.

It’s been throwing it down here all week, we’re on flood alert again and Shropshire and parts of Worcestershire are already under water. So all plans for a weekend outing were off. Or they would have been if Himself hadn’t been so damned determined to make a point with my father, i.e. we were going to have some time together away from his demands and if he said just one thing on our return to upset me, he was going to be very sorry.

There weren’t any NT properties open around our way, but Himself suggested another trip to Witley Court. I really love that place; I know it’s an empty shell now but you have to use your imagination. In it’s heyday it must have been stunning – both inside and out.

Now one of my contacts on Flickr was kind enough to spend some time explaining all about ‘f’ stops, ISO, shutter speeds, etc and the one thing I’ve always wanted to capture is one of those misty water shots. Trouble is, so far I’ve not visited anywhere with a waterfall or even a fast flowing stream, so I’ve never had the chance to try the manual set up. But…Witley Court just happened to have one. Woo Hoo!

Saturday was dull, grey and spitting with raining – turning into showers occasionally. The ground was wet, muddy and slippy so we decided that we’d be better off wrapping up warm and wearing wellies. The first thing we noticed when we got there was the lack of visitors. In fact we spent the whole morning there by ourselves; the staff staying safely inside by the radiators. It wasn’t until we were going home that a couple of more cars pulled up. The whole of Witley Court to take photographs of and not a bloody tourist in sight…heaven! Of course the weather made sure there was no colour to be had anywhere, but what the heck, who cares.

Anyway we worked our way around the gardens and eventually turned up at the waterfall and stream. Himself sat himself down on a conveniently placed log and started to smoke a cigar. This should give an indication that by now he’s well aware that we could be in the same location for a fair amount of time. And I set about adjusting the setting and taking photos.

Half an hour later Himself has started to mutter about having a cold arse and ignoring my comments of I knew a way that it could get warmer – apparently that’s my kink and not his. He’s a firm believer in the old adage that it’s better to give than receive.

So just before we moved on I decided that I really wanted a better shot of the water without having to use the zoom; which can make the picture a bit blurred if you’re not careful when you’re using a slower shutter speed. Stay around here and I’ll teach you all I know :)

Now, remember I mentioned earlier how wet it’s been? A shame really I didn’t take that into account when I decided that the very best place to stand – in fact the only place as far as I was concerned, to get that ‘perfect’ shot was on a little island a good two foot from the bank.

I was wearing wellies remember, so although it was a bit muddy it wouldn’t matter – I’d just jump down, take the photo and climb back up the bank again. Sounds easy, doesn’t it? And it would have been if the little island hadn’t consisted mainly of mud, added to which I’m a good bit over weight – so that the force of me propelling myself off the bank onto the island meant that when I landed I sank a good foot into the ground and my wellies suck solid.

Now although both my feet weren’t going to move for love or money, the top half of my body had other ideas. Such as, let’s carry on moving forward towards the water. Take into account that I have my camera in my hand. When it comes to my safety or my camera’s safety – it comes first. Always. So I wobbled back and forth until gravity decided enough was enough and I ended up with one hand in the air holding the camera, and the other hand and both of my knees sinking into the mud.

I’d like to say that Himself rushed to my rescue, and I’m sure that if he hadn’t been laughing to the point of nearly wetting himself; he would have done. He probably wished he had, as he ended up having to get me upright again and unsuck – and then stand around whilst I wiped the mud off as best I could and look the photos I was determined to get.

An old photo of the Ballroom, where the fire started (if you look close enough you can ever see the rain on the glass).

And the Ballroom today, you can still see the arches and where the fire place was. The black bits in the wall are the remains of the charred woodwork.