Today Mr B and I set ourselves the happy, but challenging, task of working through 1,293 digital shots of our Family Holiday in Deepest Devon and whittling them down to a mere 200.
The magic 200 figure (in case you are wondering) was to enable us to take advantage of a supermarket offer - 10p for a 7 x 5 print. Mr B says this is a bargain and I am not about to argue with him as I am chuffed to bits at the thought
of getting my hands on what I still like to refer to as "proper photos". As in, photos you can hand around to other people, or stick in albums, or frame and put on shelves / walls / kitchen worktops where you can see them every day without having to turn the
computer on. My daughter-in-law, the lovely Jude, would definitely agree with me.
OK, I am not a complete Luddite as far as digital photography is concerned. I am, for example, extremely
fond of the "delete" facility which has saved my face from being immortalised in all manner of unfortunate grimaces which make me look (i) old; (ii) crazy; (iii) deranged; and / or (iv) away with the fairies. And I do like to be able to "take another
one" when a quick glance at the photo I have just taken is a pictorial disaster.
I do (yes, I do!) remember the days when you had to wait for your treasured photos to come back from being developed.
And the heart-breaking disappointment when the photo you were sure was going to be "Pic of the Holiday" turns out to be so blurred you can hardly make out who's who.
The worst photo I ever took dates
back to 1967. In one corner you can just about make out Mr B with the Eldest and the Middle Darling Daughters, then aged about 15 months and 3 months. None of them is looking at, or anywhere near, the camera; Mr B in fact, is looking
into space and appears a trifle fed-up. The Darling Daughters, of course, look absolutely beautiful - what you can see of them. The main feature of the photo is the quite amazingly unattractive pipe-work snaking up and across the walls. It
is not a pretty sight.
In fact it may be that this is not only the worst photo I have ever taken - it might be THE worst photo ever taken. Though I could sell it to the Tate, of course.
I could call it "Pipe-work" or "Father and Daughters Under the Pipes." I could make myself a fortune. It's all in the pipes...
We finished our task, Mr B and me. It took us the best
part of three hours but we had such a great time remembering....Morgan's first swim; the High Ropes challenge; our "posh" cream tea in the Singing Kettle; playing the Post-It game; creating an Olympic Stadium in sand on the beach at Bigbury-on-Sea. The
meals! The fun! The laughter!
I have the photographic evidence - and memories are made of this...