Just when you think its safe to venture out into the woods, along comes the ’orrible monster again. Or putting it another way… there you go, wandering along the forest path, congratulating yourself on having narrowly missed getting smacked in the face by the swinging branch when… Wham! You trip over a root and are brought ignominiously down.
Know that feeling? I’m sure you do. Well, that’s what it feels like.
This bloody ’orrible lurgy of mine that’s taken a delight in tormenting me the past coupla weeks has been behaving exactly like that.
Having a bit of a laugh at my expense sorta thing. Obviously been taking lessons from various so-called “mates” of mine. Huh.
There was I, around this time last week, foolishly thinking I’d just about shaken it off. But instead of listening to the inner voice of reason and caution (why break the habit of a lifetime?) what do I do?
“Oh, it’ll be all right,” sez I, “its nearly gone now.” And wanders off out and about.
Last Wednesday that’d be.
So what do I find on Thursday? Right back to square bloody one! That’s what. Feel like shit once again. Bloody bloody hell.
And to make matters worse I just have to do some work. That’s the problem with a lot of us so-called self-employed types. The small self-employed types that is. Not in the same league as all those business moguls running empires that span half the globe. Its all right for them. They have minions to do their work for them.
Not all us little self-employed types though. The one-man bands sorta thing. Oh no. No work, no money y’see. Its a real pain.
What makes it all even more annoying is that (this time actually listening to the inner voice of reason and caution for a change) I’ve called off a little photo sesh that’d been organised for tomorrow. Cos not having done so would have been… well… unwise methinks.
Damn damn damn! And I was so looking forward to it.
And there’s more!
Cos, the way things are shaping, it looks likely that I’m gonna be cancelling plans for one of my photojourno-type jaunts on Wednesday as well. Oh misery me.
But the real icing on the cake is still to come!
Nor is this particular experience that I’m about to relate (just bear with me) a one-off. Oh dear me no. Its happened at least three or four times during the past coupla weeks, causing me to suspect that I’m finally really and truly beginning to lose me marbles.
(And no… that’s not an invitation for all and sundry to make nasty unkind snide remarks along the lines of “I could have told you that!”)
Moreover, and rather scarily/uncomfortably, it reminds me somewhat of an experience related by a photochum on his own blog not so long ago.
There am I, languishing in me festering pit, emerging from a couple of hours’ slumber and beginning to think of a coupla things I need to get up and do.
Like let my accomplice in that planned photo sesh know that, wimp-fashion, I’m gonna be crying off for example.
Never mind though. Cos there’s those few pics I’ve taken that need to be processed and uploaded to Flickr etc. Those not very many but rather super black and white pics shot with the good old Lumix.
I amuse myself for a little while running through them in my head… the half-dozen or so that I just know are gonna work, and those other few that maybe need reviewing cos they could be a bit iffy. Possible rejects. But quite looking forward to checking them out again anyway I am.
So eventually I rouse myself into actually getting up and switching on the infernal machine to give it a chance to go through its endless startup routines whilst I make a brew.
Yet its only when I’m finally sat at the keyboard ready to start that I ask myself “What pics? What bloody pics?”
There aren’t any! The dawning realisation that they’re all just fragments of some non-existent session of pics I’d dreamed I’d taken.
Oh how bloody annoying. And disappointing. Cos some of them were really super. Or would have been. Had I actually taken them. For real.
Dammit. Double dammit in fact, cos whilst laying in bed I’d even reached the point of thinking up some really nifty captions for them.
So now I’m just gonna spend however long before I flake out again despondently contemplating the picless memory cards and desperately racking what passes for my brains trying to think up something I can shoot in the old homestead that I haven’t already done umpteen million times. Cos I really don’t wanna venture outdoors. Not yet. Not today.
But the old heart’s just not in it cos I absolutely know that nothing I can take will match those really super, though sadly imaginary, pics.
Curse this damned lurgy. Its really beginning to irritate me now. I feel like catching hold of it by the scruff of its neck and giving its arse a good kicking.
Life? Pah. It all sucks.