It seemed a good idea, on this bitter cold day when I couldn’t quite pluck up the courage to brave the elements outside, to do something useful inside.
I thought about it, I really did. There are cupboards that require immediate attention on account of the fact that every time I open their doors the contents topple out onto the floor. There is the Clearing The Loft
Project which was supposed to be my New Year Project and here we are in April all of a sudden and I haven't so much as sought out the pole which opens the loft door and allows me (or, more likely Mr B) to pull down the handy ladder and clamber up
it. All at once it occurred to me that taking my Legoland photos off my camera and posting them on Facebook was the most important thing in the world to do today. Compared with crawling about in the loft, I thought it would be easy-peasy...
First of all I needed Mr B’s help because he is the Person In Charge of Photos Stored on the Mac Computer. The problem was, in asking for help, I knew I would
have to face up to a few unfortunate truths about my abilities as a photographer. Mr B likes to tell it as it is.
“They’re blurred, they’re all
blurred,” he mutters, crossly, as he transfers my precious snaps from the aptly named memory card. What can he mean? All my memories of our lovely few days in Windsor – they are crystal clear in my head, how can the photographs be all blurred?
Mr B reminds me of my unfortunate habit, pressing the shutter release and at the same time moving the camera downwards. This, he explains in the kind of overly-patient
voice people use when trying to placate a toddler in a tantrum, results in blurred photographs. He goes through each one in turn: “Blurred, blurred, blurred....” I find myself remembering that when the Youngest of the Darling Daughters was posting photographs
of our Easter Weekend on Facebook a few days ago she gently but firmly turned down my offer to add some of mine. I'm sure you are starting to get the picture. If you’ll excuse the pun...
Mr B was quick to point out another basic photographic error on my part. When taking photographs of Young Faris (aka Baby Boy, My Soldier and any number of other affectionate titles) I had obeyed the Rules of Taking Photographs
of New Born Babies and switched off the flash. Unfortunately it hadn’t occurred to me to switch the flash function on again – which meant that all my charming photographs of Young Morgan (Youngest of the Little Welsh Boys) crawling around
our hotel room in search of fresh mischief, were somewhat on the dark side. Dark and blurred – what a photographic disaster.
I managed, despite
the Voice of Doom (Mr B) to find seven photographs which I felt could be posted onto my Facebook status without anyone commenting; “Lovely photo – shame it's a bit blurred.” These were, in order: (i) Little Welsh Boys, with their
mother, at the gates of Legoland (see pic); (ii) Little Welsh Boys, with me, in Miniland; (iii) Little Welsh Boys, with Mr B, waiting for a show to start; (iv) Little Welsh Boys with their Dad at the start of the Nature Trail in the grounds of our hotel; (v)
Little Welsh Boys outside Winnie the Pooh’s house; (vi) Little Welsh Boys with two outsize teddy-bears; and (vii) Little Welsh Boys with their mother outside our hotel. Can you spot the common feature in all seven photographs? Please don’t say
I think, perhaps, I should take a course in digital photography. A beginners course because, like Uriah Heep, I really am ever so humble.
Learning new skills has been an important part of my retirement so far – I have, among other things, taken up short mat bowls, learnt the basics of scrap-booking, taught myself to knit birds (including the fiendishly difficult blue tit), set up my own
website, found my voice in our Singing for Pleasure Choir, acquainted myself with the history of my church in preparation for becoming a “watcher” and fine-tuned my cribbage skills. I have signed up for a three-hour crochet course and am booked
in to an afternoon at the West Sussex Records Office later this month to learn what’s expected of me as a volunteer in the Great War Project (see link on the left!)
I tell Mr B of my plan - you’re never too old to learn, I say, hopefully. He mutters something under his breath which I don’t quite catch.
I hear the word “blurred?”