Pictures of my life

It occured to me the other day that I don't have enough of a record of my life. I do stuff and think I'll remember it. Sometimes I do. I can still close my eyes and picture the salt flats in Bolivia, or the caves under ToroToro. Other times I can't. The other day I had real problems remembering the name of a girl I used to work with.

It also occured to me that my life is somewhat fragmented these days. I've got Cam friends, school friends, university friends, family and they don't come together really at all. Names float around, but I suspect for a lot of people those names aren't real.

Finally, I got given a digital camera for my birthday. It's now sitting in my bedroom, looking at me mournfully. I don't think it feels loved.

Therefore, to address all three issues I am going to try and institute a new and occasional column. It'll be called Me And My Camera: A Life In Pictures and will consist of random pictures and prose whittering about things which are important to me right now.

I shall start with ( my Early Anglo-Saxon archaeologists )

And those are the people I work with. I think there may be a rather damp burial mound in the background somewhere as well.

Sutton Hoo was lovely, by the way, although very cold and featuring the worst video EVER in its visitors centre. No facts, just unconvincing re-enactors (6th century warriors didn't normally wear hair gel, I feel) wandering around to pretentious readings of Beowulf. We all sat at the back and heckled.

The drive back was long, broken up by an hour in a pub en route. Thankfully we came into Oxford via the Banbury Road, so I got dropped off at college, picked up my car, and drove home. Even more thankfully the car battery didn't give up the ghost until I got back to Reading. Which it then did. Utterly. Totally.

As of 10 pm last night my car will not start. The nice people at Diamond sent out a mechanic who looked at it, prodded it with jump start leads, poked it a bit and told me I needed a new battery. My truly sainted father says he can fit a new battery for me either tonight or Thursday, but in the short term I'm back to using trains. My poor poor Clio. I fear it is getting old.

Oh, and extra thanks to wildrogue who drove across from House of Doom to try and help me jump start it, despite it being late and cold. She is loved and appreciated and everyone who sees her today should tell her she is great.

And now on into Oxford. I may take some more pictures there, perhaps of my room in college or of Wolfson itself. Or is there any other part of my life people would like to see recorded in picture form? I'm taking votes for the next installment of Me And My Camera: A Life In Pictures.

Pictures of my life

It occured to me the other day that I don't have enough of a record of my life. I do stuff and think I'll remember it. Sometimes I do. I can still close my eyes and picture the salt flats in Bolivia, or the caves under ToroToro. Other times I can't. The other day I had real problems remembering the name of a girl I used to work with.

It also occured to me that my life is somewhat fragmented these days. I've got Cam friends, school friends, university friends, family and they don't come together really at all. Names float around, but I suspect for a lot of people those names aren't real.

Finally, I got given a digital camera for my birthday. It's now sitting in my bedroom, looking at me mournfully. I don't think it feels loved.

Therefore, to address all three issues I am going to try and institute a new and occasional column. It'll be called Me And My Camera: A Life In Pictures and will consist of random pictures and prose whittering about things which are important to me right now.

I shall start with ( my Early Anglo-Saxon archaeologists )

And those are the people I work with. I think there may be a rather damp burial mound in the background somewhere as well.

Sutton Hoo was lovely, by the way, although very cold and featuring the worst video EVER in its visitors centre. No facts, just unconvincing re-enactors (6th century warriors didn't normally wear hair gel, I feel) wandering around to pretentious readings of Beowulf. We all sat at the back and heckled.

The drive back was long, broken up by an hour in a pub en route. Thankfully we came into Oxford via the Banbury Road, so I got dropped off at college, picked up my car, and drove home. Even more thankfully the car battery didn't give up the ghost until I got back to Reading. Which it then did. Utterly. Totally.

As of 10 pm last night my car will not start. The nice people at Diamond sent out a mechanic who looked at it, prodded it with jump start leads, poked it a bit and told me I needed a new battery. My truly sainted father says he can fit a new battery for me either tonight or Thursday, but in the short term I'm back to using trains. My poor poor Clio. I fear it is getting old.

Oh, and extra thanks to wildrogue who drove across from House of Doom to try and help me jump start it, despite it being late and cold. She is loved and appreciated and everyone who sees her today should tell her she is great.

And now on into Oxford. I may take some more pictures there, perhaps of my room in college or of Wolfson itself. Or is there any other part of my life people would like to see recorded in picture form? I'm taking votes for the next installment of Me And My Camera: A Life In Pictures.