Get Some Guttering

Yesterday, we went to Leicester to see a film. I shan't name the film, but it's about three singing chipmunks, one of which is called Alvin. It was the second one, and I rather, liked it's predecessor. Sean claimed it was Lou's fault we were seeing it...

So, firstly I had to catch a bus. This, in my world, is a dangerous and risky task involving murdering drivers and shifty-eyed members of the public. And Joseph, usually.

(Although, a couple of weeks ago I had to take a bus to Lutterworth all by myself in pursuit of a rogue SD card. Without Joseph I was a bit scared, so got on dead early when there were few other people on the bus. I had to have a cream cake with Ellie just to be brave enough for the trip home)

Now, I managed to walk the 149 miles to the Warwick Road stop and co-ordinated my bus-boarding with the others so that we got on the same 84 to Leicester. Win. David, Nathan, Sean and Joseph were already on the bus, and so was Jesus.

The trip into Leicester was fairly uneventful I didn't get shot at or spat upon. We then ran across the Aylestone Road with me in heels. Fail. We bought out tickets from a weird little bloke without a real name, and then went over to Morroways to stock up on cheaper-than-cinema food. After a few minutes of fun with a Self-Checkout Machine and an oh-too-happy-to-help attendant, we left Morroways stuffing various items of confectionery products into inside pockets and, in the case of a rather firm tube of Pringles, down my jeans.

We successfully smuggled our haul into the cinema and settled down to watch the film.

IT WAS SHITE.

Joseph pointed out there were only three funny parts to the film and he was spot on. If it wasn't for my Pringles, Jelly Beans, Mint Cremes and Liquorice Toffees, I probably wouldn't have enjoyed it very much either.

I've just discovered that my cousin of six years also went to see it, and "enjoyed it." Enough said really, and Sean - or Lou - shall not be allowed to choose the film in future. Thank you very much.

After the film, we walked through the sleet to St Margaret's Station. Our first stop along the route was behind some blue bins at the Tiger's Stadium on Welford Road, hiding from Joseph who had ran off to recover some money that was owed to him by a tramp near the LRI. The rain was pouring, and was dripping in "litres" according to David. Several of these huge droplets fell on Sean's head, leading to disgruntled shouts about the need for guttering on the new stand...

A bit of a run through Granby Halls Car Park and a back track towards the Toyota garage followed in search of Squidders, but we didn't find out if he got his money back. We then took the second leg of our walk, which terminated at a McDonalds on Horsefair Street.

A bit of dawdling down to Town Hall Square revealed something just shocking. There was a display in which ratty weasle things had guns and bum sex, but there was someyinh more shocking...in the stable, JESUS HAD GONE! Thank God David still had the little model Jesus from the bus in his pocket...

Then we made the final epic trek through dangerous light snow and hazardous little breezes to the Bus Station, where there were a large number os half-dressed young girls, escorted by a bunch of chavs. Oh yes, m'dears, welcome to nightclub country. Being teenage boys, we started a 1-10 rating system, with points being deducted for glasses, limping and wearing tablecloths or curtains.

We caught the bus home sodden and bitchy - David brought up Love Actually comments and then I nearly got murdered by some Broughtonite tosser that Nathan assured me was "a twat." Nathan's semi-Northern mother gave me a lift home from David's, where we'd sheltered in his extraordinarily long kitchen from the snow that had stopped outside...

Cheese on Crackers

It's dead annoying when you think you've got something sussed, only to realise that in fact, you're talking bollocks.

Take today for example. I paid Hannah a visit to have a look about the house and work out how I'm going to wire the New Year's Eve sound system. Turns out that in actual fact what I'd originally planned is total rubbish, wouldn't work and had to be rethought.

Bugger.

Of course I did come up with a plan, only half convinced it's going to work, but I've given myself a whole seven hours to rig the place, so there shouldn't be any problems by the time the guests arrive at 7:30pm...

What did distract me was Jess, deciding that she was a photographer and stealing Kenneth. White Balance wasn't feeling to Automatic, so I set him to shoot in Monochrome and let her play. She wasn't too bad, I suppose. I quite like this shot of Hannah...

There's often a good reason to remove colour from a photograph, and this is one of them. A lovely candid caught particularly well. B+.

I'm now sat, bored, eating cheese on crackers. I'm not supposed to eat because of my anti-spottyfuck tablets, but nuts to it. I like Mexican cheese. I like crackers. I even like the bit of butter in between.

I guess I'll just have to be a spottyfuck.

Merry Christmas

Christmastime. No Mistletoe or Wine but 2 hours of Take That's live show at Wembley and several beers.

Excellent. At 16, the excitement of Santa and snow doesn't really work (unless you're Ellie, in which case I'm sorry) and it takes a bit of alcohol to actually get into the mood. Or maybe it's just me and my Grumpy Lumpyness. To be fair I spent most of the morning reading Dara O'Briain's new book about the English, from an Irish point of view. It's really funny. Also, Santa Amy brought me Katherine Jenkin's Ultimate Collection, which is rather good for a Welshie. Bryan Adams' Everything I Do in Italian, opera style...sounds like it'd be crap but actually she's amazing.

I've also been given two massive canvas prints of art Volkswagen camper vans. Excellent - now, where am I going to put them...methinks Pop-Art-Elvis is going to be evicted from the stairs.

Anyway, Top of the Pops is a tradition in our house, more so than the Queen's Speech. I think that Liam's team were in charge of snow - they did go a little over the top and use it for literally every bloody act. And Muse were out of place. Mother decided to slag of Florence & The Machine, almost certainly because she's old and grumpy.

Now we know where I get it from.

Boxing Day looks to be slightly sunnier. We're eating duck, early, because Dad's going to work early. Early for us on a Saturday, anyhow...

Righty-ho, enjoy Boxing Day, all x

Batman and Robins

Think Pogues.

It was Christmas Eve, babe, and in a forest, two photographers, took pictures of robins...

Almost. Well, we had a lovely morning shooting today, on Christmas Eve. Squidders popped himself on my doorstep for about 9:10am and after a brief moment admiring each other's new Lowepro bags, we walked the short distance past the Blitz rock, over the bridges, past the pub and the church (in Ireland they're the same thing) and up into the same bit of footpath that Henry and I walked yesterday.

It was blooming freezing. So much so that droplets of water had frozen to a branch. This provided the first oppourtnity for us to whip out the cameras. Joseph [Squidders' real name, for newbies] has the Lowepro Slingshot AW300 which in theory should allow him lightning fast access to his camera. The design is flawed by the fact that his head gets in the way when pulling his bag over his shoulder...

I smugly pulled Kenneth from his new bag, the Lowepro Fastpack 250. We had a bit of an argument about the usual things - white balance, shutter speed and Nikons. I remembered what I learnt from the incident with the robin yesterday and told the camera to always use the centre focus point, not guess at which one I'm trying to use. The Tamron lens is a bit slow and fussy when it comes to focussing, but I nailed a pretty nice shot of the branch...

I win. Anyway, we calibrated the cameras and I dialled in a shutter speed of 1/125 which actually worked out pretty well with some of the later exposures. We caught sight of a couple of birds but it was only until we got to the path up to the hill that I got anything remotely decent...

Epic win, I even danced at Squidders who was a little way off. Silent dancing of course, we wouldn't want to disturb the birdies. We then paced up and down the path, which slopes up to the first stile to the hill from the Croft side. The robins came and went, and after yesterday it was one of them that I really wanted to get and get right. A lot of patience and careful management of the odd-focussing Tamron lens led to a couple of really close shots of some pretty robins...

We eventually got disturbed by a group of runners and then the loudest children in the entire country, so we buggered off further around the base of the hill, eventually putting the cameras away to climb up this really steep, icy, dodgy bit of slope. We sat atop the hill, chatting shit and looking out over lovely hazy Leicestershire that stretched out in every direction...

Our attention was caught by a mountain biker, who had cycled the entire way up Croft Hill. Bloody idiot. Then a jogger ran past, slipping slightly as he ran down the other side of the hill. The cyclist turned and went the other way - straight down the dodgy bit we had just climbed. Brave bloke. We stood there talking about bananas, and Joseph then noticed the cyclist bloke out on the other hill, right round near Huncote! Brave bloke!

Then the jogger went past again, this time falling flat on his arse as he descended the hill. We laughed, naturally...

This was the scene from the top of the hill, looking towards what I believe to be Broughton Road in Croft. Pretty misty, we mused. Then the jogger ran past again, this time choosing to run back down the hill on the slightly grippier edge. We stood and saluted the single most brave man in the county of Leicestershire. Feckin' nutter...

How Batman fits into this I'm not quite sure, but the title looks good. On the way back home, we bumped into a couple of Croftian locals. Joseph thought we were going to get mugged for a moment, before realising it was somebody he actually knew. We then went ice skating with them, and I decided to try and crack the ice. I even tried bunny-hopping through it on a scooter the Croftians had stolen, to no avail. Joseph was getting a bit worried for my safety, especially as large cracks had formed, spider-web style around the epicentre of my jumping.

As we were coming off the ice, a broken bit near the edge showed us that it was a good four or five inches thick...my jumping was a pointless waste of energy, I'd have never gone through that...

It's Christmas tomorrow, lads. Have a good one...Beannachtaí na Nollag xx

Well and Truly Walked

Henry and I went for a bit of a trek today, with Kenneth and Barney. After delivering a Christmas card and stopping to chat to Chris, we headed out towards Croft Hill on the woodland footpath that lines the Huncote Road.

Almost perfectly, a little robin flew down and landed on a fencepost. I froze, and Henry did too. This little robin stayed politely on the fence post, I raised Kenneth to my eye and...everything was black. Bugger, lens cap...no, there wasn't one on, it was in my pocket where I'd left it. I checked the viewfinder again, but it was definitely all black. The robin stayed on the fence, waiting for me to realise.

I'd hit the "SET" button and activated Live View - flipping Kenneth's internal mirror up and blocking any light getting to the viewfinder. In the trade, we call that "fucking stupid".

So, I missed my National Geographic award-winning shot of a cute little robin. But it's alright, I had gorgeous Henry to pose for me, instead.

That was nice of him. We spent a few minutes up the Hill and Henry took Kenneth to try his hand at DSLR photography. His shots were pretty good, and he got a quick crash course in basic composition rules (IE not sticking the subject slap-bang in the centre of the frame) before we headed off towards Huncote with the intention of going to Annabel's in Enderby.

We never made it, instead deciding the weather was too unpromising. The horrible grey skys had long since rendered Kenneth pointless, but we carried on walking and did a full circuit back up the B4114 to Croft.

Of course, it was hell when I got home - the puppy was filthy. I gave him a quick bath, but he's still not clean... To be fair he wasn't spotless when we left. I think Henry's more worried about his feet...a bad choice of footwear. I know that feeling...

Christmas Shopping

Baby, it's cold outside...

Firstly an apology. As Elinor correctly pointed out last night, for all my complaining I never actually gave my opinion on the Florence song. However this blog is not a musical review site, instead it is a journal of photography and semi-comic complaints.

I liked the song. It was very good. She has an amazing voice. However, anybody who ever attempts to re-record an Irish punk drinking song should be that - drunk. Florence was far too sober, and same applies to the KT Tunstall version I heard recently.

Let's move on. It was the final day of the Borders sale today, with up to 90% reductions in store. Well, we just had to go along and have a looksie, didn't we? As you do. Mother, Father and I descended on the store. Imagine an explosion in a city centre pound shop, with the debris being books, DVDs and calendars. It was a bit like that. There was a bloke who paid at the till next to us, with a big basket packed to bursting with novels, cookbooks, soft porn, how-to guides...hardbacks, paperbacks...you name it, he had it in this basket. The woman behind the till was pulling her hair out. He then asked if she would look after this mountain of books for him whilst he brought his car round.

Naturally, she refused. Good for her, and also I bet he didn't spend more than fifteen, maybe twenty quid. Closing down sales are always fun, and fair play to the Borders staff - considering they were spending the last few hours of their employment watching vultures scavenge for last-minute Christmas bargains in the format of the written word, they were a jolly bunch. One was even dressed as Santa, however another did assure me that they were all "high".

A brief tour of Fosse Park followed, sorting Hannah's Christmas present and condemning my fingertips a little more to frostbite. This weather really seems to be staying, hold out hope for a white Christmas (I still have my case of MO-OCD by the way)

We got back and my keen photographers eye caught sight of the beautiful sky. Kenneth had came to Fosse Park with me in his new backpack, but I popped in to grab a tripod and ran off down the bridle path towards Stanton to take some pictures. I say ran, of course, I lie. I didn't have last nights ridiculous shoes on, but there isn't a lot more grip in my Emericas, which were pretty flat to start with. I swear, I've never concentrated on walking so much since that hike in Beaumanor 2005.

I'll leave you with mine and Ellie's favourite pictures, but I got a nice one of a pylon too. I don't know what this new obsession with taking pictures of pylons is. Maybe it's because they're photogenically symmetrical. Or I've got a case of...ummm...Copenhagen Fever?

A Winter Wonderland

Fourty minutes, entirely wasted. On one Florence song.

Evil iTunes didn't want to sync properly. Barney quite eagerly wanted a walk, but iTunes continued to be "Verifying" my iPod. Why? What is there to verify? Yes, iTunes, it's my iPod. It's the same one I've been plugging in all day. So much so that the battery is entirely charged. You even say that. But no, just because me and, increasingly so, the dog, want to go for a walk, it is now you choose not to work.

I gave up. I'm not a patient person, as a general rule the Irish aren't. I guess that iTunes took offence to Joe McElderry (hiss boo) being loaded onto it and decided to wait for an oppourtunity to get me back. It did so stunningly. I couldn't be bothered to wait any longer, so just unplugged the iPod badass style without ejecting, plugged in the earphones and harnessed up the hound.

I knew as soon as I stepped outside that I'd made a bad decision regarding shoes. I've had these odd blue things on all day. They're not mine, this is Croft, and the previous owner has done a good job in wearing the soles away. I slipped and slided around the corner to Hannah's, where I found my two best friends, and their two other halves. Ryan and Matt were quite happy to come walkies with me and Barney.

I removed my earphones and stowed my iPod in my coat pocket.

A bit more slipping and sliding ensued, and talk turned to Hannah's New Years Eve party. Ryan and I, crystal clear on what was going on, held most of the conversation, but we did try to involve Matt.

LS: "Are you coming to Hannah's New Years thing, Matt?"

MH: "When is it?"

How are we supposed to work with this? He came out with that almost immediately after:

MH: "Lads, how come there's no snow on the ground back there?"

RM: "That's because of the trees, Matt"

LS: *Laughs* + *Slips on ice becuase of crap shoes*

MH: "Oh, I hadn't seen the trees..."

No, he hadn't seen the huge trees on Bala Road that we'd just walked under. I love special people. Anyway, I then spent a few attempts trying to get the dog to pull me along on my flat shoes, husky / ski style. As I'm sure you can imagine, it was a failure.

Eventually I fell over.

The ice is still pretty slippy out there, but it's worse in other parts of the country. Airports have been closed, there's chaos on motorways and the Euro Tunnel have closed their Folkstone terminal. After I had returned Ryan and Matt to their respective girlfriends I got home, to hear the BBC News. Now, over the years British Rail have had a few good excuses, including The Wrong Type Of Rain and who could forget Leaves On The Track. But today was the turn of the Eurostar.

I think they picked up that old BR book, turned to the page for "Snow" and read the first excuse listed.

Apparently, the problem is "Fluffier than usual snow"

How ridiculous! Where's my iPod...huh, iTunes worked first time.

Bastard.

Best Wishes for 2010

So today's post is a bit more from the heart than usual.

STILL no photography done, today was a bit wasted but I did have a great chat with Peter about next year's Croft Players show...it's a Panto.

Oh no, it isn't!

More Medical Discoveries

Bloody weather.

Now, I don't mind a bit of snow. Who does? (Apart from everyone who has to drive anywhere the next day...)

A certain Principal told me the other day that in Finland they've had 5 foot of snow, over night. That's ridiculous, our country would simply fall apart if that happens. Then again, it's minus ten in Finland.

But this has led to a new mental disorder being discovered - by me, of course.

I'm calling it MO-OCD - Met Office Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

It manifests itself in the brains of teenagers who should really a) know better and b) be doing that important coursework they're still putting off.

And what happens is, at the slightest mention of the S word, said person with the condition is straight on a weather website, such as the Met Office or BBC Weather, aimlessly trying to predict when their particular area will - if ever - get a blanket of the white stuff.

I myself suffered from this condition for a little while. It's awful, like chronic man-flu. Except you can die from that, MO-OCD just annoys you for a little while...

Anyway, I went for a walk with Kenneth to see if I could take any pretty pictures of any such snow, and quite simply, couldn't. Did get a nice chance to check out my new Lowepro camera bag though, which is a bit big but fits Kenneth and associated accessories inside quite nicely. Good ol' Jessops.

The DI Christmas Email went our this week and thanks for some lovely replies, not least Eli's "well done 2 u all remember 2 endevour 2 endvour she was of course a great ship full of learning and knowledge that a camera would have enjoyed merry xmas 2 yu all endevour" Ah yes...

Photography has, to be fair, been a bit flat recently. I borrowed a camera on Friday at LC's request of taking snowy pictures for next year's Christmas cards. However by the time I'd taking part in an English Lit Pub Quiz (during which me and Luke lost 50p each to Alex; Bastard.) the lovely snow had stopped falling and the sun had started to melt what was on the ground. Fail.

I'll leave you now, I have to check the weather report...

Swine Flu & Modern Warfare Fever

Evenin' all. Hell, it's windy outside. Not particularly pleasant.

Well, I've decided to take up blogging again. This'll be fun...

First complaint - what is it with this new computer game - Modern Warfare 2? Now, Radley-Boy promises he'll explain the game to me on Monday after-school when we should be doing Biology. But I don't think that the high number of missing Yr11 lads this week had nothing to with the release of the latest Call of Duty game.

Illnesses are setting in - Swine Flu is slowly gripping, with more and more people reporting "Flu-like Symptoms". Even I was struck down with a bad case of flu today - Man Flu, naturally - which of course was left me blind in both eyes and unable to walk. Actually to be truthful, I was getting rather self concious in the Maths Exam Retake as my coughs were a hell of a lot louder than the scratching of pens...Sorry, everyone...

Maybe next week, illnesses will increase further. I'm predicting a new type of flu.

Mock Exam Flu...