I managed thirteen days without a camera after the Dublin Bloomsday malfunction before Bookhound, sensing intuitively that I was sinking into a slough of despond without one, trotted off to the builder's merchants as usual, but went via the camera shop coming home with surprise, surprise...a very nice shiny new one. I really don't need to go looking for things like this, too much choice, I just need one to apparate on my desk which this did with a little note on it.
For the techy among you it's a Fujifilm finepix F80EXR which, according to trustedreviews.com, apparently has a brain of its own ...
The technology which makes the camera so impressive is centred around the EXR chip, which intelligently alters itself to cater best for the ambient situation.
I'll be having some of that then, so all I really should have to do it is take it out of the very nice case, switch it on and point ...I like.
So I sat down' and made myself do instructions (I am usually too impatient to do instructions and then wonder why nothing works) before taking it out for a test walk along the lane the minute the battery had charged, and I have to say what a difference another six megapixels make, along with a 10x wide zoom lens and the brain inside the camera that knows how to use them.
I was this far away from the little Methodist chapel...
and quite worryingly almost looking in people's windows in the village two miles away.
Spotted someone having a bonfire because they'd missed the recycling lorry, which is not surprising given that since we complained that it was looking like Beirut (with apologies to Beirut) because they kept missing us out, they have taken revenge by coming around at 7am. It's no good putting things out the night before because the foxes and the rats seem to know.
I leant on the front gate and revelled in all the detail that this picture of Kit Hill picks up.
I decided against a walk around Rocky's field where there was something akin to the Calgary Stampede going down (Kate and Wills are going there) ...
and so came back in to settle down with my pre-Port Eliot reading... look at all those lovely pixels, you can even see the titles now.
And has anyone else read My Last Duchess or am I the last??
Just published as American Heiress in the US and I am really loving every word and now can't wait to talk to Daisy Goodwin about it ... think of a sort of hybrid fusion of Edith Wharton meets Upstairs Downton Abbey sprinkled with some Rebecca-esque du Maurierism, and all overlaid with some Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Shuttle to the faint echoes of Port Eliot's utterly beautiful well-worn and lived-in gentility...it will be a grand book to talk about there and would make excellent holiday reading too, don't miss it.