There’s nothing like a grey January morning for sucking the joy from the marrow whilst making one a mirror image of it. A memory comes to mind of a curvy grey zinc bar laden with well made Martinis and a conversation with an erudite Australian photographer friend in which I’m quizzed on the meaning of the word “enervation” which I mistakenly believe to signify excitement. This dull drained morning defines that word with meticulous precision. I need light; we need light. In my case the need is not great enough to go to an airport. A walk down the lane reveals grey to be good.