Access to the internet continues to be an issue in this house. We’re still on the old computer for all but war games and uploading photos, so no new pictures possible at present despite the gift of my father’s old camera due to his upgrade. Hey ho!
I can take photos on my mobile (also a hand me down), and my girls have recorded a number of videos on it (very silly, and, if I ever work out how to download they will be saved for future embarrassment!) however it would seem it is not something I have understood.
At a very early hour on Sunday morning I found myself awaiting arrivals in Terminal 3. There were a number of journalists and a battery of cameras buzzing somewhat despite the hour. It transpired that Alastair Cooke was on the plane. Normally I would simply have watched with interest, but for some reason I decided that I would film the event. Dear Reader, may I suggest that you should live your life, and join in, rather than record it? I watched them through a tiny screen unable to make out which cricketers were with him, and then failed to save the recording so couldn’t even watch it back. It might have been better if I’d photographed the rush past, but really: I just should have been there.
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