Single frame… In Memory of Joseph L. Anderson

In Memory of Joseph L. AndersonIn Memory of Joseph L. Anderson
Fujifilm X-T1, Fujinon XF 18-135mm f3.5~5.6 R LM OIS WR at 46mm, 1/210s, f8, ISO 400

Joseph Low Anderson (20), a bachelor and compositor by trade, who was born in Auchtermuchty in Fife, had the misfortune to board a Dundee-bound train at Cupar on Sunday 28 December 1879 and became one of the 59 confirmed victims of the Tay Bridge disaster.

His body was found near Caithness on 23 April 1879 and was apparently only identifiable by his watch.

I can’t resist the urge to include William Topaz McGonagall’s poem about the disaster…

The Tay Bridge Disaster

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

’Twas about seven o’clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem’d to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem’d to say-
“I’ll blow down the Bridge of Tay.”

When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers’ hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
“I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay.”

But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers’ hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov’d most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov’d slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o’er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill’d all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav’d to tell the tale
How the disaster happen’d on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

Monochrome Monday… Carr Wood on the Fujica GW690

Carr Wood, December 2018Carr Wood, December 2018
Fujica GW690 – 1/125s, f8, – Ilford Delta 400 Professional rated at ISO 800

Another shot from the first roll through a borrowed Fujica GW690.

Carr Wood has featured on here before (a few times in fact), it may only be a tiny patch of woodland but it’s always a pleasant place for a stroll with a camera…

Scan by AgLab with minimal cropping and tweaking in Lightroom Classic CC.