Tragedy!
I have dropped my new camera and reduced it from a compact, cutting edge miracle of miniaturization to something akin to a Kodak box camera from the 1950 able to take pictures and little more. Gone is the telephoto; the menu of possibilities; most of the features. It is now a point and click. A very expensive point and click!
I have arranged to have it collected in a couple of days as it is still well under warranty, but I am sure that dropping the things negates everything – I live in hope! If it can be repaired then I am more than willing to pay as the camera, a Canon Power Shot SX 210IS is one of the most remarkable cameras I have ever owned. Every day and in every way I get poorer and poorer!
My new bathing costume has arrived and appears to be little more than a holey wisp of material which, I am assured, will allow (because of its revolutionary material) most of the sunshine to flow through and therefore get rid of the ‘white bits’ – this remains to be seen.
As irony is my middle name, I confidently expect the sun to disappear for the summer which would suggest that a bathing costume nearer to the woollen (sic) construction that I was photographed in when I was a toddler on the beach at Barry Island would be more in keeping than the suggestion of decency that I have just bought.
“Homo Faber” has at last resurfaced, but not soon enough to stop me reading “Andorra” by the same author. Although acclaimed as one of the most significant German plays to be produced since the, well, you fill in the event that satisfies, I found the play, which is not about Andorra to be an unsatisfying amalgam of half digested Brecht, a little bit of Arden and a dollop of Brenton. The morality and ethos was easy and unthreatening.
The only aspect that I really liked was the opening and ending of the play where one of the central characters was whitewashing: in the beginning in honour of St George and at the end – you’ve probably guessed the difference, but I think that dramatically it could be very effective.
Another glorious day, though with more clouds than I usually tolerate but more than satisfactory. A chunk of the day was taken up with trying to find the way to send the camera back to see if it can be repaired. I still have not lost the sense of panic that comes with the shunning of the sun while other important actions have to be taken. This is a specifically British thing which relates to holidays abroad when every bright moment had to be focused on turning the skin a shade that would normally be impossible in our damper climate! I still, and don’t think I will ever stop, look fearfully out of the bathroom window every morning to see if the distant trees are topped with sunlight.
I must learn that the sunny spaciousness of a summer holiday in Spain does allow you to do those things which are impossible during the crammed time of term and there will be sunshine enough to spare when they are all complete.
Happy days!
I have dropped my new camera and reduced it from a compact, cutting edge miracle of miniaturization to something akin to a Kodak box camera from the 1950 able to take pictures and little more. Gone is the telephoto; the menu of possibilities; most of the features. It is now a point and click. A very expensive point and click!
I have arranged to have it collected in a couple of days as it is still well under warranty, but I am sure that dropping the things negates everything – I live in hope! If it can be repaired then I am more than willing to pay as the camera, a Canon Power Shot SX 210IS is one of the most remarkable cameras I have ever owned. Every day and in every way I get poorer and poorer!
My new bathing costume has arrived and appears to be little more than a holey wisp of material which, I am assured, will allow (because of its revolutionary material) most of the sunshine to flow through and therefore get rid of the ‘white bits’ – this remains to be seen.
As irony is my middle name, I confidently expect the sun to disappear for the summer which would suggest that a bathing costume nearer to the woollen (sic) construction that I was photographed in when I was a toddler on the beach at Barry Island would be more in keeping than the suggestion of decency that I have just bought.
“Homo Faber” has at last resurfaced, but not soon enough to stop me reading “Andorra” by the same author. Although acclaimed as one of the most significant German plays to be produced since the, well, you fill in the event that satisfies, I found the play, which is not about Andorra to be an unsatisfying amalgam of half digested Brecht, a little bit of Arden and a dollop of Brenton. The morality and ethos was easy and unthreatening.
The only aspect that I really liked was the opening and ending of the play where one of the central characters was whitewashing: in the beginning in honour of St George and at the end – you’ve probably guessed the difference, but I think that dramatically it could be very effective.
Another glorious day, though with more clouds than I usually tolerate but more than satisfactory. A chunk of the day was taken up with trying to find the way to send the camera back to see if it can be repaired. I still have not lost the sense of panic that comes with the shunning of the sun while other important actions have to be taken. This is a specifically British thing which relates to holidays abroad when every bright moment had to be focused on turning the skin a shade that would normally be impossible in our damper climate! I still, and don’t think I will ever stop, look fearfully out of the bathroom window every morning to see if the distant trees are topped with sunlight.
I must learn that the sunny spaciousness of a summer holiday in Spain does allow you to do those things which are impossible during the crammed time of term and there will be sunshine enough to spare when they are all complete.
Happy days!
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