Cameras

Of course, I'm still not using my new Cannon Powershot digital, I'm still using my Minolta SLR.

I'm an idiot, I know.

But it's not my fault... naturally. (you were expecting me to say something else?) It's definitely Mark's fault. Ex-boyfriends, they have to be blamed.

Oh, when I first got it, Mark arrived - he has a sixth sense for such things, I tell you (*) - the day, nay, the hour I bought it home and he wanted to take it for a test run. I wasn't going to use it for that first weekend, can't remember why now. A funeral? An intervention - like I give enough of a shit to do that.

A smoking circle of death - ah the good old days, it does take me back. Trip to the moon, who can remember those details.

So, of course, Mark being Mark, he had it for a week, or so, and managed to lose the instruction manual. And this camera is a piece of work. Everything function uses symbols and pictures. Fucken hieroglyphics!

Okay, I admit it, I've been slack. I put the bloody thing on my self waiting for Mark to arrive with the instruction book, I've got a good memory, I probably only need to look at it once... and he never did, of course, and the camera has never been used again.

(*) new clothes, new cars, new boyfriends, you can set your watch by Mark arriving at the critical moment and trying to make off with the merchandise.

There are a couple of my friends who wont forgive Mark for the Carl incident. I only mention this as a point of interest, I, personally, have forgiven him ages ago.