Wildlife Photography by Gez Robinson

Gez Robinson — Wildlife Photographer

by Sylva Fae

Gez Robinson is the wildlife photographer from Yorkshire, England, who was interviewed in last month’s edition of Mom’s Favorite Reads, about the family of mice that live in the brambles at the bottom of the garden. But mice are not the only creatures this talented photographer captures… I was first attracted to the stunning photos of the bramble mice, but my favourite photo is the two foxes, snuggled up asleep like two bookends. The amazing photographs show just how much trust these wild animals have in Gez.

Copyright © Gez Robinson for all photos featured in this article.

Gez’s all-time favourite is a stunning picture of a swan. The photograph won a couple of awards and it’s easy to see why.

‘The swan image took a week’s planning to work out how to get the shot, and three days of going to a local reservoir and sitting with a load of swans. It was a lot of trial and error to get the shot I wanted; my vision was for it to look like a candid photo of a bride in a wedding dress.’

Another of Gez’s favourites is this comical picture of two cheeky kingfishers, protesting against the ‘No Fishing’ sign.

When Gez said I could choose some photos, yet again I had a dilemma – what to choose? They are all beautiful. These are just a small selection of my favourites, so please hop over to the Facebook page, where you can see more of his bramble mice and the other wildlife that visit the garden. Some of the mice photographs are now available to buy as cards and on other merchandise.

https://www.facebook.com/bramblemouse

Sylva Fae is a married mum of three from Lancashire, England. She has spent twenty years teaching literacy to adults with learning difficulties and disabilities, and now works from home as a children’s writer and illustrator. Sylva has published several children’s books and also writes a blog, Sylvanian Ramblings. Her debut book, Rainbow Monsters won the Chanticleer Best in Category award. Discover more about Sylva on Mom’s Favorite Reads website: https://moms-favorite-reads.com/moms-authors/sylva-fae/

The Stag Do

by Joy Margetts

‘What’s that infernal racket?’ Bill looked up from his book and flung his reading glasses to one side. He would have jumped to his feet to emphasise his annoyance if his tired knees had allowed him. ‘There’s a group of holiday makers in next door. I saw them arrive about half an hour back.’ Irene was in her favourite spot, her little armchair in the front bay window, where she could people watch. It was an ever- changing source of entertainment; until her painful hip forced her to change position, and she would find a little task to do elsewhere in the house. The racket was raucous laughter, shouting and banging of doors.

Irene peered around the curtain for a better look. A group of young men, scantily clad, were making themselves ‘comfortable’ on the dainty metal framed garden chairs their neighbour had placed in the tiny flower- filled front garden that overlooked the sea. It was an incongruous sight. The holiday home was usually occupied by young families, or sedate older couples, enjoying a few days away in this quiet seaside resort. There were no clubs, amusement arcades or wine bars to attract a younger crowd here.

‘What the…? Bill had levered himself slowly out of the chair and was standing leaning over his wife’s shoulder. One of the lads turned at that moment and raised his beer can, saluting Bill with a grin, before turning back to his mates and laughing.

‘There’s going to be trouble,’ Bill said, shaking his head, ‘I don’t like it. I don’t like the look of those thugs, Irene. I’m telling you. We’ll be calling the police before the weekend is out. Hooligans!’ ‘Oh, let them be. They are just here on holiday like anyone else. You enjoyed a drink in the sun yourself, in your day. Don’t suppose you can remember that far back,’ she half -whispered.

‘Humpff,’ was the reply.

I smiled at Mark’s antics. I’d spotted the faces at the window next door too, but he was quicker to acknowledge them. He meant no disrespect, I knew that. He wasn’t like that, he had grandparents of his own that he loved dearly. In fact they had more or less brought him up when his mother had abandoned him. He was a little rough around the edges, had got into trouble a few times with the police in his teenage years, but had pulled things around now, despite his troubled start in life. He had held down a good job for three years now and had

proved himself a great friend to have in your corner. They all were, these five sat around me now, t - shirts off, drinks in hand, lapping up the sun. A display of shockingly pale sun- starved flesh all round. I could see how such a sight might upset the neighbours, but we needed this time away, this break. We were determined to enjoy every minute. Tom appeared in the doorway, a triumphant look on his face. ‘Look what I found,’ he said, lifting up a huge cooler box, obviously heavy with contents. ‘Perfect, mate! All set for the beach lads?’

‘Lead the way. Who needs a picnic when we’ve got cool beers?’

‘They’ve been on the beach for hours,’ Bill stood at the upstairs window. The view was better up there. ‘Red as lobsters they’ll be. I dread to think how much they’ve drunk too. Look at how that one is staggering about.’

Irene joined him. ‘Oh dear, they do look a bit pink, don’t they? Perhaps I’ll pop round with some aftersun lotion in a bit.’

‘You’ll do nothing of the sort. I won’t have you going anywhere near them. Especially in the state they’ve got themselves in.’ ‘You won’t? You wouldn’t be able to stop me if I was so inclined,’ is what she thought. What she said was, ‘just look at them splashing around in the sea like little boys. It looks like they are having so much fun!’

‘Fun? That’s one way of looking at it. All I can see is grown men embarrassing themselves. Wouldn’t be surprised if one of them gets themselves drowned the amount of beer they’ve consumed.’

‘Now then, Bill, that’s not a nice thing to think.’

I watched Tom and Sean larking about in the water. Splashing about and trying to dunk each other. Sean leapt up onto Tom’s back and they both fell into the water, half- laughing, half -spluttering. The cool sea water was a welcome relief from the blazing heat of the sun on our backs. My head was throbbing from heat, and probably a bit from the drink too. I’d join them in the sea in a moment. It was good to see Sean so relaxed. He’d come up with us this morning but he’d only be staying one night as he had to get back to his family tomorrow. I only hoped one of us would be sober enough to see him onto the train in the morning! Home -life was hard for him, but you’d never hear him complain. They had a baby five years ago, and there were complications, and their son was born with severe disabilities. Sean was now his son’s main carer, and it was not often that he could leave his boy for more than a few hours. He’d had his son young, but had been forced to grow up quick. I was in awe of his capacity to care so deeply and completely for his child. He’d be on his phone, face-timing him soon, I didn’t doubt. But for these few moments it seemed he’d forgotten everything except for having fun! It was so good to see. I jumped up and ran into the sea to join them.

Thud. Another door banged. Irene didn’t think the walls between the houses were that thin, but that one had made her jump. ‘They’ll have those doors off their hinges. Not to mention whatever else they might be damaging in there. I’m surprised at Hilary for letting the house to a group of yobs. Still, on her head be it.’ Tom stood at the top of the stairs with his hands on his hips. But he was grinning. He’d arranged this weekend. We would have been in Ibiza, or Amsterdam, or even Dublin, if we’d been allowed. But this was all we could manage, and I was grateful. I walked past him and slapped him heavily on the back.

‘Noted, Thomas, noted.’

‘I’m sure she knew what she was doing. Any bookings are good bookings these days. You know Hilary needs the income from the holiday let to be able to keep the house. Perhaps she had no choice?’ ‘Yea, well. I’m the one who’ll get it in the neck if this place is trashed. Seb, put that joint out, or at least take it outside mate! If that smell gets into the curtains, I’m done for.’

‘Yes, well, at this rate she might not have a house to come back to. If I was younger, I’d go around there and check it out for myself. Remind them that it is not their home they are abusing.’

A shriek of laughter rang out from the open window next to theirs. Bill sniffed the air. ‘Phew! That’s not tobacco they are smoking either!’

‘Well, how would you know?’ Irene said.

‘Lads. More care. Aunt Hilary put her trust in me to make sure we respected the place.’ I smiled. If he did get into trouble, Tom would charm his way out of it, I’d no doubt. He was the spoilt one, the monied one, the one with wealthy, over- indulgent parents. He drove a brand new Jaguar. But that wasn’t the whole truth. He wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone else, but we knew. His parents were wealthy, but he had spent his whole life being traded off between them. His society mother and his career driven father had little time for a child. He was an inconvenience, and became a pawn in their bitter fury -filled divorce games. He’d broken contact with them years ago, but the sadness of rejection lingered. He’d found a new family to belong too - us. Oh, and his Aunt Hilary, who adored him. Thankfully.

‘Look! He’s on the roof! Now another one is getting up there. He’s stripping off. Irene, look…’

‘I don’t need a cheap thrill. I’m past needing to see men’s naked bodies at my advanced age.’

‘But they are on the roof… two of them. Now he’s flinging his clothes over the hedge into Harry’s garden. He’ll be livid!’

Irene staggered painfully over to the bedroom window that looked out over the yards lining the back of the terrace. Bill was right, there were two of them up on the flat roof of Hilary’s kitchen extension. They were only about eight foot off the ground, but high enough that if they fell they could hurt themselves. In her experience from her nursing days, it seemed that often the drunk ones bounced, and did themselves little harm when they fell. Or at least felt nothing when they did. One of them was undressing, mercifully still in his underpants, but twirling his shorts around above his head like a lasso. His t- shirt and trainers were already lodged in Harry’s high hedge. They’d need a ladder to retrieve those. The other lad seemed to be laughing along, but definitely steadier on his feet, and still fully clothed. Irene watched for a moment or two longer, but then feeling the chill from the open window retreated to her warm bed.

‘Leave them be Bill. There’s nothing you can do. And you don’t need to catch your death standing at that open window.’

Bill slammed the window shut, hoping the noise would startle the unwelcome visitors and remind them that they had neighbours - elderly ones, who needed their sleep. Reluctantly he joined his wife in bed.

‘Don’t expect we’ll get much sleep tonight. Don’t be surprised either if sirens wake us before the night is done.’ Seb was off his head. I’d expected it, he was a bit of a loose cannon these days. I had invited him, knowing he would probably overdo it, but these roof antics surprised even me. Ben was up there too, which was a good thing. He’d been drinking as well, but not enough to be out of his senses. I trusted him to be careful, and he’d watch that Seb didn’t do himself any major harm. These two had formed a close bond over the last year. They’d been friends since school, as all of us had, but Ben and Seb shared an experience that none of the rest of us could begin to understand. Seb’s brother, Paul, had taken his own life, and Seb had been the one who discovered him. Ben was the firefighter who pulled Paul’s lifeless body from his fume- filled car and attempted CPR. Ben wouldn’t let Seb hurt himself. He’d pull him back from the brink if he needed to. He’d be there for Seb, and Seb knew that too. He and Ben talked, and wasn’t that what we all need? Someone to talk to. If Paul had had that, maybe he wouldn’t have…

‘Well, I told you we should have called the police. I’ve just talked to Harry and he nearly called them last night. They were still carousing at 3am apparently. I’d put my ear plugs in before then mercifully. I didn’t hear them, did you?’

‘I didn’t need the lads next door to keep me awake when I had you snoring next to me,’ she thought, and said, ‘I did. But they quietened down eventually.’

‘They’ll be sleeping off their hangovers this morning. I’m tempted to bang a few doors, or set too with my hedge trimmers just to spite them.’

‘What hedge trimmers, we don’t even have a hedge?’

‘I do, dear, but it wouldn’t achieve anything to disturb then now, would it?’

‘How long are they staying, do you think?’

‘Just for the weekend. One more night. It’s a stag party I understand.’

‘That’s no excuse for loutish behaviour.’

‘Of course, you never misbehaved when you were younger. Not in your army days…’

‘Well, maybe. I never had a stag weekend though.’

‘You didn’t have enough friends…’

We’d got Sean off to the station and onto his train, and now we were kicking back watching the footie. There were a few sore heads but there was also more beer in the fridge and we weren’t going to be carting that back to the city with us. It would have to be drunk tonight. It wasn’t going to be wasted. One more night. I had resisted the urge to call home, to see her face on my phone screen. She’d been good too, her girls had whisked her away to some Spa hotel for her hen treat. I was glad. She deserved some pampering. It had been good to get away and spend this time with the lads, my mates, but I missed Jess. I hadn’t been away from her for this long for months. She’d been right by my side, through everything, our love for each other tested and strengthened by what we’d been through. I couldn’t wait to marry her.

But then these boys had been there for me too. I looked around the room, at the bodies in various states of slovenly degradation, at the empty beer cans and loaded ashtrays, the soggy remains of pizza, edges curled in their grease- stained boxes, and the crushed Pringles cans. I grinned to myself. These were the best of mates. Always ready with a helping hand when it was needed, or a joke at my expense. They were true friends, who knew instinctively how to get me laughing, how to just get me through. I would be proud to have each one of them stand up with me when I waited for Jess to walk down the aisle.

They knew as well as I did, that it had been touch and go as to whether I would ever get to marry Jess, in a church, surrounded by friends and family. But then last month I finished my last course of chemo, and a week later got the news we were holding onto a thread of hope for. All clear. Full remission. Life restarted.

So that’s why we were here this weekend, at this hastily arranged get away, not the place we would have chosen to go, but definitely the people I’d have chosen to be with. It had been a blast. A deep breath of fresh air. A party of parties. I will call on the neighbours tomorrow, and apologise if we have disturbed or alarmed them. But I’m sure they would understand if they knew the whole story. I know I’d forgive these friends of mine almost anything. We all have our secrets and we all have our stories. We all need to let loose from time to time.

‘They are going. Finally. I can sleep peacefully tonight. Did you see the number of cans and glass bottles in poor Hilary’s recycling box this morning?’

‘I did. I met one of them out there by the bins this morning. He introduced himself as Rob, the happy groom. It seemed they were all doing their bit to tidy up before they left.’

‘Was he coherent?’

‘Yes, actually, and very polite. He apologised for any inconvenience they had caused us, and hoped they hadn’t scared us at all. I said it was fine, that they were just young ones letting off some steam. He looked at me then and smiled warmly, and said that he was glad I understood.’

‘Understood what?’

‘Well I don’t rightly know. But I’ve learnt over the years not to judge. Everybody has a story to tell, and often those stories are sad ones. What you see on the surface is not the whole truth of a person.’

Bill grumbled something under his breath and turned his attention back to his book. Irene took her seat back in the window and lifted her hand to wave as a loaded car pulled away. Bill smiled to himself. She was right, again, he knew it. But it would cost him too much to say it out loud.

Irene smiled to herself too. Bill knew she was right, and she didn’t need for him to say so. She turned her gaze back to the world outside her window and waited for the next story to unfold.

Joy Margetts has loved writing for as long as she can remember. A retired nurse, mother of two, and a new grandparent, she also has a lifelong interest in history, and loves nothing better than visiting ancient monuments or burying herself in archive material. She was brought up in the South of England but for the last twenty five years has made her home on the beautiful North Wales coast. Her debut novel 'The Healing', a work of historic fiction, was published by Instant Apostle on 19 March 2021. Joy has also self published a short novella, 'The Beloved' as both a companion to 'The Healing', and as an easy to read standalone story, which is available on Amazon Kindle. More information on Joy and her writing, and her personal blog, can be found here www.joymargetts.com