R and I are two years short of our 40th anniversary. We have to date this to the consummation of the marriage that never happened and won't because same sex marriage is illegal in Australia. It is not something either of us worry about, but it would be nice to be able to marry, even if we don't. Sister and Bone Doctor legally married in Australia's capital city of Canberra when it was legal for about a week or so, but quickly enacted federal legislation killed that. However, as they were legally married, can that be taken away by the government? It would be an interesting case to take to the High Court.
Sandra has reached the 40th milestone with her beloved and they took what sounds like a brilliant cruise to celebrate, to no less than the Dominican Republic. Atlases out everyone. There was a camera casualty during the holiday though, which made me remember our camera disasters. There have been none since we bought our first digital camera, only that the camera never captures my true handsomeness. In fact digital cameras are rather cruel to me. Film cameras were much kinder. I could not possibly be the difference in time between film cameras and digital cameras. If you ask what a film camera is, go away and stop reading my blog.
Camera disaster 1, circa 1983. We generally used a Kodak cartridge camera to take snaps. Were they called an Instamatic? I can recall at some point buying a flash bulb holder to put on the top of the camera, and you needed a stock of flash bulbs to insert into the holder. I remember photos of almost white faces with shocked looks as the flash exploded in their faces. Maybe that was an older camera of my youth. We were off to New Zealand. A friend said, take my camera, but you have to put the film in by hand. Wow, a proper 35mm camera in a lovely leather case. We snapped away all over New Zealand, but every photo once developed looked green, very green. Maybe my memory is exaggerating a little, but the photos were pretty bad. We would have taken much nicer photos with a Kodak Instamatic.
Camera disaster number two, circa 1989. R was trying on a cheap tee shirt in a Bangkok market. Stall holders directed fans onto the sweating farang. He put the camera down of course, but by the time he finished deciding whether to spend a $1 buying a tee shirt, the camera had gone, along with the photos of our holiday we had already taken. A hand had slipped under a curtain partition. Fortunately our friends had taken photos too and gave us duplicates when they had theirs printed.
Camera disaster number three, circa 1992. We now own our own 35mm camera and no more green hued photos. Pop in the film and line the film holes up with the sprocket, close the back and the motor whirred away and wound the film on and away you go. We were staying north of Cairns in Queensland. We travelled to Port Douglas and boarded a cruising boat owned by pop singer Johnny Farnham. Insert a new film and set off for the Great Barrier Reef. We had a magical day with lovely food, good company, warm sunshine, a gentle breeze and best of all, novice to it that we were, snorkelling and seeing the spectacularly colourful reefs and fish. We were exhausted and as we returned to shore with our newly found gay kiddie mates, we plonked down and watched repeats of Ab Fab. Strange, I thought, as I went to change the camera film. I thought it was 24 exposure and the counter says 34, so I must have used a 36 photo film. Have you guessed? Yep, the film did not wind on and the blasted counter counted upward regardless. No photos at all! Once back in Melbourne, the camera was ever so carefully stomped to smithereens.
Do you have your own camera disaster story?