prolific.org

A video compilation of this year’s Christmas party at ilse media, where I work. More video’s on Zie.nl.

My 70’s 35mm rangefinder -  a Canon GIII QL17 – broke a few weeks after I bought it. The lightmeter’s kaput. I love this camera because it’s tiny and inobtrusive and has a fucking great lense attached to it. I’ve been wanting to get a new one and I’ve got a (low) bid on one going on at the moment. Six hours to go and no bids but mine as yet. Weird, as these cameras are hot property. I may get very lucky. Not.

There’s another camera from that era, that’s very similar: the Olympus 35 RD. They’re quite rare, but I’ve found one and am sorely tempted. It’s a ‘buy it now’ item.

I had a low bid going on a (digital) refurbished, unit only, Canon G5, but someone’s trying to steal it from under my nose and has driven up the price to a frankly ridiculous amount for a camera that comes without any of its paraphernalia. (It uses the same battery as the EOS 300d, so I don’t need a charger or software anyway.) I may end up overpaying for it now as I was drawn into this silly bidding war. Update: And yes, of course I won this one. I’m happy, but not as excited as I’d be over a vintage camera. This G5 will take over business formerly handled by my Ixus, the picture quality of which is just too disappointing compared to SLR. The G5 makes a good prosumer ‘back up’ camera.

Christmas bonus, eh?

Tivoli i lov’ it


My final day in Copenhagen I spent in the city’s entertainment park, Tivoli. (Flickr photo set) It’s closed in winter, but opens during Christmas when they’ve decorated the place in lights.

Tivoli has the dubious honour to have inspired Walt Disney to build his Disneyland, but the Danish park is charming, not gaudy. It’s old fashioned and far too lovely to be camp.

When I was little I wandered into one of its gambling venues with a handful of coins (from my uncle) in my pocket.

There I found a strange betting machine. It was based on horse racing. I didn’t understand the instructions, but it looked fascinating so I dropped in a coin and pressed some buttons.

A few minutes later a heavy load of money spilled into the receptacle at the bottom of the machine. I looked around me, but none of my relatives had followed me into the building.

I was a little sad that no one had witnessed my fortune, but I pocketed the winnings with a thrill. And spent it all on other, less generous, machines.

A set of photos taken on my first day in Denmark. A pro would cull these down to 3 shots, but that would take too much time so there’s 34 in all.

Scandinavian Christmas decorations aren’t permeated by the American ‘Coca Cola Santa’ fun fun fun look like in the rest of the world. Sometimes they’re a little creepy. A little creepy can be good.

Also, there are a couple of cameraphone shots which contain more freaky shop window examples.

I bought a monopod shortly after walking through this arch. On Tordenskjoldsgade, where I once spent a lovely summer.

When my mother passed away in 1975 I had not seen my father for a while.
They were separated and visiting arrangements were a little
problematic.

When it was suggested I’d go live with my mother’s sister, my aunt
Ineke, I was all for it. She was married to my favourite uncle and I
was close to her two youngest sons. They lived what I at 12 years old (and for a long time after) considered the
high life. International schools, a lot of travel, all the toys in the
world.

It would have meant leaving Holland and growing up in Jakarta and Copenhagen. I think I was ok with that too.

My aunt and I would have eventually come to blows had this plan (One of several… boarding/finishing school in Switzerland was another. That would have been something.) got the
go ahead, I’m sure. I’d have been the rebel child. I eventually went to live with
my father instead and consequently did not see a lot of my mother’s family after that. I spent my whole childhood missing them and learning to do without. Then I forgot how to get back in touch, and they seemed to have forgot about me.
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Last day at work before a five-day-break (an Ascension Day / Liberation day double) and I have to say thank fuck. This is my first time off since Christmas and it’s unfortunately ruined by the fact that I do have to take care of the weekend shift (from home) . The U2 tour has had me plan all my time off late June and July and I sort of forgot about some kind of Spring break and I’ve been feeling the strain these past couple of weeks. We are moving buildings on the 10th, about 200 meters up the road from where we are now, so today we’ll have to prepare content for our sites to cover those five days and then pack our stuff for moving as well. Fun, fun, fun.Here’s hoping for sunshine and a quiet weekend shift and the return of my sanity.PS. Cookies saved my soul.

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My Secret Santa this year was Scott Matthewman, while I played Santa to Fraser Lewry.

Having been Secret Santa for people who don’t have websites before, it’s nice to be able to treat and be treated by someone who does and you wouldn’t mind adding to your blogroll.

The Secret Santa present was the only present I got this year (not celebrating Christmas has obvious disadvantages) and I watched it in one sitting: Queer as Folk series 2.

Christmas hampers are quaint survivors of an age when workers were poor and sickly and employers provided food to strengthen the work force.

A lot of companies go for the ethereal these days, picking gifts of glass or wood items (made in Eastern Europe) that are very, very useless. I’ve had my share of two-part vases and oddly shaped napkin rings. Worse still were the tasteless tins of fruit and bags of ancient walnuts. My current employers go for booze.

Did you get a Christmas hamper (or other gift) from your employers? If so, what was in it?

To kick off with mine: Red, white and bubbly. Australian. Also, a Christmas bonus (which was tiny, since I’ve only been officially employed since Dec 1.)