Okay not quite a city but summer in Rugby, yet again. The holiday season is as good as over and once more I’ve been nowhere other than a handful of day trips. That’s been the story of my life except for when girlfriends have dragged me kicking and screaming further afield. As a child I never had a holiday, we couldn’t afford it, so this reluctance to venture forth into the big wide yonder is deeply ingrained. My idea of a holiday is being stuck inside the Chateau de Vaughan taking snaps of a gorgeous glamour model. C’est la vie.
Talking recently to a Canon using photographer friend has opened my eyes to how little I really know about the operation of my Nikon cameras. He was telling me which features on Nikon DSLR’s he preferred to his Canon’s and to be honest I had never heard of them let alone used them. Thinking about it I can’t be using anymore than 10% of what the camera is capable of and have to admit that during many a session I have struggled to remember to turn the thing on.
From the (strange) choice of music you have assumed correctly. Yes we have a guest writer!
I’m much younger than most of you but I think you will love this. Jack Penate has disappeared a bit but this is a noughties classic. Good words and nice tune, just right to wiggle your bum to, so get into the 21st century old-timers!
I don’t get on well with social media, may be because I’m unsociable. I customize the interface to suit my tastes, that is I turn almost everything off, but both Facebook and Twitter think I must have made a mistake and set the preferences back to near default every other week. Cunts! I don’t want what other people think is a top story headlining my feeds, or, for fucks sake, notification of who has won an award in a game. I’m a big boy, I can decide for myself what is important so leave my settings alone.
Joni Mitchell. Talk To Me. 1977. Till I pissed a tequila anaconda the full length of the parking lot. One for the water sport enthusiasts methinks.