Bad
Strictly speaking, it’s not really THAT bad, but-I signed up
for a photography weekend in the lovely little village of Glen Colmcille
in Donegal. The blurb on the website gave me the impression I would learn some
new tricks, and I quote “ explore the cultural & natural environment of
Glen Colmcille, armed with your digital camera and directed by an expert
photographer and teacher. Use your own or our computers to learn photo
enhancement skills.” The other blurb-that I have either misplaced or have binned
(in the recycle bin of course) gave me
the same idea. So I was thinking –great I might learn how to use my Lightroom
programme properly-or let me know I am actually using it right. And also (sorry
any teachers, I know that’s a bad way to begin a sentence-but see if I care
anyway ) indulge in the craic with other people from the other course in the
pub.” So I’m driving down on the Friday afternoon for the signing on and
introduction session-and then the pub and craic.
On the way down I noticed some strange noises coming from
the car.
When I got there I discovered I was first there-and there
was only five in the group. I was also told that the rest, including the ones
in the bodhran class were coming later that night. Now the glen is a tiny
little village-so I had no shopping mall to wander around, AND this was a bank
holiday weekend there, and with so much going on in other towns, this place was
barely awake. The Friday night proved to be very long-I had nothing to read and
I came out without my ipod (I don’t like drinking alone).
So Saturday finally arrives-turns out the women in the
bodhran class are very easy on the eye-and they’re in same b&b as me! The
class starts-2 people did not turn up. Turned out –they won the weekend as a
prize in a local radio station and just could not be bothered. The guy taking
the course introduced himself, and asked us what we hoped to get from the
weekend-I said that I was hoping to get off using the semi-automatic bit on
camera and learn to use manual more-he said that he never used manual and just
used the semi-automatic. THEN I said that I was wanting to learn how to use
Lightroom better, he said “Lightroom? What’s Lightroom?” I explained that it
was taking over from photoshop elements and been going for a few years. THEN he
said that he did not use photoshop and he just used a free download-picassa. So
it looks like I know more than him. It was just far too basic for me-but I
always say that there is nothing wrong with getting back to basics. I got a
couple of nice photos when we were out taking pictures.
Saturday night the pub was very quiet-there was too much
going on in various other nearby towns-what with the bank-holiday weekend.And the tutor and me were the only 2 from both
classes there. I was concerned about the car so just could not unwind.But there
was an American in the pub was doing a song on his acoustic guitar-I recognised
it, but just could not place it-when he came to a bit I recognised, turned out
it was “Sign Your Name”-Terence Trent Derby-and it sounded great too.
Turned out the noise in the car was my brakes were “worn to
the metal” I used this as an excuse to leave early on the Sunday , as I did not
fancy facing their bank holiday traffic on Monday , and also gave me time to
get car sorted. To be honest, if the brakes were ok, I would have stayed on the
whole Sunday.
I have signed up for another weekend course, based in the
Downings-Donegal again. I have done more homework here, and I will learn
something new here-in fact I may be out of my depth with this group, with a bit
of luck. Also I am holding off on buying a new camera, maybe this’ll convince
me that there is nothing wrong with the current one, and I’ll be better off
investing in a new lens instead.
This one is not until September- which is proving to be a
busy month-the ICS holiday and a sister’s wedding.
The Whatever
Things in general not great-I know all I need to do is talk
to someone. But getting me to do that is near impossible. I need to be pretty
drunk before I open up,drop my defensive's and all that. Life would be a heck of
a lot better if I actually talked to someone. Last time I did this was about 15
years ago with Barmy Brenda-a woman I used to work with-told yous about her
before-a bloomin psycho she was-probably still is-but she turned what could
have been a very miserable Christmas into a great one-she even encouraged me to
put in for a transfer at work-and THAT was a very good move.Because the office
I worked in is closing and everybody there is panicking about their future. She
lives in the city I now work-and in those 15 years there I have never bumped
into her-which to be honest might not be a bad thing-she had the most gorgeous
brown eyes I have ever seen, but still a nutcase.
Heading over to Scotland for a day’s cycling at end
of August-going over with my “unofficial twin brother” to meet up with the
friend who got me into the cycling thing. He is always complaining about people
not keeping in touch-thing is I regularly email him, even phone him-but he
NEVER phones/emails here. He doesn’t seem to realise it works both ways.
Looking forward to this Scottish trip it is over to a lovely little harbour
village called The Isle of Whithorn. This is a kind of annual trip. When we
arrive at base we park our bikes and get a pint of cider and go over to the
harbour wall and take in the view.
oh- the barmy one drunk me under the table-and every drink she had was different. She got me very drunk indeed. One night when i was still quite sober I realised that some of the things she said were quite scary-so i took some peoples advice and stopped playing with her.
Oh! was at the hospital getting my glaucoma check up-one of the male nurses asked me, what was the name of the doctor who was dealing with me. I said that I was not told his name. Then he said "Was he a big guy?" I said "Well, he was bigger than me-but that's not saying much." I got a very bemused look, and he said in a very dry way "Did he have a southern accent?" hmp well I thought it was funny.
Oh! was at the hospital getting my glaucoma check up-one of the male nurses asked me, what was the name of the doctor who was dealing with me. I said that I was not told his name. Then he said "Was he a big guy?" I said "Well, he was bigger than me-but that's not saying much." I got a very bemused look, and he said in a very dry way "Did he have a southern accent?" hmp well I thought it was funny.
Well that’s it –more blathering later-still too lazy to check this over-any teachers reading this are probably pulling their hair out in frustration.
