Playing silly buggers

On the way back from our little jaunt to Salcey Forest (see last post), there was me sat in back of mate’s car (no, not that mate… this mate) playing silly buggers.

With the camera that is. After all, what else would I be playing silly buggers with?

The journey back was through snow turning to rain as we approached Bedford; the rear windows kept on misting up; and there’s me, like an idiot, firing off shots at the passing scenery in between wiping the window with some sort of unsavoury rag that I’d found lurking in my back pocket.

(Its good to always carry something around to wipe things with. Cos you never know what’ll need wiping… or when. Particularly at my age!)

Precisely what I hoped to achieve with this totally pointless little game is anybody’s guess, and I’d be the first to admit that it was likely just a complete waste of battery power.

Yet, like an idiot, I kept on doing it. And it passed the time while the others persisted in ignoring me. Huh. Bloody typical.

That evening, back at my little hovel, I offload the day’s pics onto the infernal machine and, having sorted through processed and uploaded the Forest pics, I come to this rubbish at the tail-end of the batch… all the ones taken in the car.

And amongst all the wonderful images that are basically just a grey blur is this little series of “house pics”.
Now don’t tell me… I already know. They’re a complete bunch of crap… from almost every point of view.

Openly admitted.

But…

There’s something about them, some little thing, that really does appeal to me. Has me fascinated in fact. Returning to them time and again, just to “suck in” this indefinable thing that seems to be acting a bit like a magnet. With these two in particular…

There’s something about them that strikes me as dream-like, ghostly, ethereal sort of thing. Definitely like something seen in a dream rather than anything in waking life.

Or perhaps stills from some really old home video… conjuring up thoughts of people long gone and haunting images of places that meant something to someone, somewhen.

So I tinker with them a bit and upload ‘em to Flickr. And resign myself to now sitting back and waiting for all the insults.

Or maybe I’ll discover there’s some other weirdo who likes them as well!