A month or two ago I bought a camera. I have never owned one before and hardly ever used one. I always felt it created a barrier between me and what was going on. Of course, those who, like me, hate having their picture taken are often the keenest snappers; photo or be photoed (that can’t be how you spell it, my own fault for being too lazy to write photographed), but it’s never appealed to me.
Digital cameras seem different, mainly because they show a bigger picture and I don’t have to put my eye to a little viewfinder but can see what is actually going on. And I need to take photos of stuff we’re selling for our website. Selling at a real auction of course, not online. And of course there is Grandbaby.
However, the downside is that it’s so easy to take loads of pictures that I can see they are going to build up, filed under vague categories and not properly labelled, for years to come. I’ve got about 200 of them from the past week and I can’t even bring myself to load them on the computer yet. It’s not that I don’t want to see them, but it’s all fresh in my memory and I don’t need them yet. By the time I finally get round to it, I’ll have forgotten why I took the pictures. And where they are of.
I should have gone to the WI tonight but cried off as I had work to do. Half regret it though; the subject of the talk was to be ‘canopies’ and now I shall never know if I would have received sound advice about sunshades or about tasty nibbles to go with drinks. I rather suspect the latter.