Last week on a whim, I entered a competition.
It must be a sign of my advancing years or something as until earlier this year, I'd never done that before, and my inexperience tells in the way I scrupulously abide by the rules as published.
In the first one, I got an honourable mention for writing about the computer I was using at the time, but I made the mistake of getting my entry in at the very last minute, just before the competition deadline was mysteriously extended, when I could have taken more time and entered a week later. I didn't actually want the prize in that affair, so I was fortunate when the judges decided to award it to an entrant whose circumstances turned out to be such that they were quite deserving of it, though that entry was well over the word limit set in the rules and entered beyond the original deadline.
There are some absolutely brilliant entries in the current one as well, which require a photograph containing an element of the built environment and a maximum of 100 words explaining "why I love this place", and while I'm not for a minute expecting another honourable mention, I must admit in an effort to further my "art" I might have rather pushed the context of "love" in one or two of my entries to the extent that had I enough spare words I should perhaps of added "and of course I'll respect you in the morning".
Things don't bode well for success either. Three hundred odd entries including mine were happily lodged on Flickr exactly on time, only to see the competition extended by a week, allowing a further four hundred of what turns out to be the cleverest photographers and writers in the country sufficient time to finely hone their hand crafted masterpieces while effectively preventing the punctual among us from last minute changes of heart.
Perhaps the organisers have been inspired by Fiona O’Loughlin's response when she was asked why she had so many children and she replied "we're not stopping until we get one we like"!
We really do like Joan and Ian's place (pictured) quite a lot though!:
I love this place because it provides a refuge not just from the subtropical climate of our own home but from the present time itself.
Burnbrae was originally a guesthouse in the Blue Mountains. It isn’t a grandly restored manor but an honest building preserved by the sympathetic stewardship of its few successive owners, each providing modest concession to their current time without disguising the patina hard-won over more than a century of passing guests.
This view of the library, it’s interior distorted through ancient glass, exudes the warmth that is within.