My interests in this activity began at an early, some might say ridiculously young, age of five. Resplendent with a black ‘box brownie’ around my neck – word has it, that I could be found ‘taking’ neighbours photographs as they passed our home in Renfrew. Not that clever mark you – no money was asked for (then again, there was never any film in the camera!)

I was processing and printing my own snaps before long however. Do you remember the early packs that I think were called POP (Print Out Paper) for a meager few pence, the kit comprised a negative, and some wrapped cut light sensitive paper and a frame? The idea was simple. Open the frame in a darkened room put the paper, emulsion side up and lay the negative on it. Close the frame – take outside into the sunlight and leave it negative side up, to the sky for a few hours. When opened, a picture was burned into the paper and to make the image permanent you immersed it in vinegar. My small collection of Greer Garson prints is long since gone! However, I do think her bathing suit ignited a lasting interest in the female of the species!

From these early 1950’s days my pursuit was more related to drooling over lenses, cameras with specifications beyond my financial hopes. I snapped anything and everything. Aircraft were a favourite and the arrivals of the then ‘famous’ at the nearby airport terminal, Renfrew Airport. ‘Stars’ like Johnny Ray, Moira Shearer, Howard Keele and the launching of the Queen Elizabeth II on the Clyde. My hometown was practically opposite the shipyards where the Cunard liners were built. We regularly visited the riverside to look across as it was growing in the stocks. Watched it slide down into the water, spending months being fitted out until finally one foggy September morning caught it’s first engine firing, as it left the Clyde for sea trials and exiting south, never to return.

As far as I am aware, my pictures turned out to be then only ones ever taken that morning. I had loaded up with a very new, ultra high-speed film. The morning light was extremely dim. I made my way across fields of Langbank to the river, up side from the twin peaks of Dumbarton Rock. The basalt monument to what once was the core of a volcano. Where the famed ‘Cutty Sark’ had left it’s birthplace of Dennys Shipyard.

Only one other figure was around, an elderly gent – well dressed and likewise spoken. He was a recently retired Cunard line Captain and had been on the other ‘Queens’ during his duties with that shipping line. In his hands he held a Bolex cine’ camera – he hoped to film the ship in colour. I did wonder if my knowledge would be appropriate in fending off his ultimate disappointment for the ‘speed’ of the colour film was so low as to be hopeless for the morning light, never mind the fog. So, I did warn him that he ‘might not’ be successful. Still, he warmed to sight of the liner emerging from the mists. Overhead the drone of light aircraft, I found later, carried newspaper photographers. The only prints of the ship are all taken much farther down the coast, the aerial aspect on the river being worse, than those on the shore are.

(From the Web Master: Many thanks to Glen for sharing his account and photos (which are Glen's so if you would like a copy I can forward the emails for you) of the event. I would be really interested in hearing about others (with or without photo's - we can scan them and give you them right back!) drop me an email - Click here to send email to the Web Master)