Camera Woes

I've always liked taking photos. And yes, that really is me, from way back in the late 1970s, when I had hair; lots of hair - too much hair. Not sure what I'm taking a picture of with my much-loved Minolta, but I do know that I was in Tokyo at the time. I also remember that this camera was stolen as well, not long after I posed for this picture. That got me thinking.

I have not had much luck with cameras. Their fates sort of reflect my mood and luck of the time, I think. My first one was dropped from a great height off a German bridge when I was about 16 - I had lost an important tennis match the week before, I distinctly remember that too. That nearly broke my heart. My second got trodden on by my father and was never the same again (the camera, not my father). That was after I had done dismally in my 'A' Levels.

I bought an almost professional Mamiya with most of my first wages, which was then nicked from my flat one night in Tokyo in 1978 along with a bag of heavy lenses. This was quite unbelievable, I was told by my Japanese friends, since crime was unheard of in wonderful Tokyo then, except among foreigners. I then caught terminal flu and spent a week on my mattress on the floor, sniffling into tissues, watching Japanese telly and feeling very sorry for myself.

I invested in a Nikon and had a few months getting to understand all the things it could do. I even took a picture of a bloke pushing a bike in the Philippines, which won a competition (see below). I was right proud of that. Then the bayonet lens broke and I somehow scratched the main lens. The funny thing was that I then caught an ear infection, which meant I could not hear for about 9 months in my right ear. That was truly a dreadful time.

I bought an Olympus. That lasted a few years, until I decided to walk along a mountain ledge in China in a howling gale and driving rain. The camera got soaked and... you guessed it, died on that mountainside with a 'fried' motherboard, after I decided, somewhat rashly, to take a picture a miserable-looking cow in the mountain mist. I broke my leg a few days later doing a charity parachute jump in Kent.

A Canon followed, which again was stolen from my apartment, this time in Suzhou, China, while I slept in another room. Creepy that. I actually have a vague memory of noises in the middle of the night. The next day there was a hurricane and all the electrics fused in my apartment, after an impressive fire in the fusebox.

Then came the age of digital photography and I went back to all things Olympus. I still have this camera (at the back of a cupboard), but rarely use it, since my i-phone now does the trick, because it's is easier to pack, weighs nothing at all, can play my music and tell me what's happening in the world, all at the same time.

But... I dropped it last year and broke the screen. Next month, I was on the Scilly Isles and playing cricket and... broke my collarbone taking an impossible catch.

So, there you have it. You're pretty much up-to-date now on the broken and lost camera front. So, the next time you scratch a lens, shatter your android screen or drop your camera, think of me and cross your fingers.