You need your sleep to recouperate from a hectic day of scowling at siblings, being put out by their requests for technical support, eating fucking delish curry...
As part of the Sniffy Experimentals programme of fully validated and peer reviewed scientific work, I conducted a sleep experiment last night. Interested in knowing how much I move about while sleeping, in order to make an informed decision on easy-care or Egyptian percale bed linen, I thought I'd employ the full technical capability of my camera to find out.
My camera is no slouch and it is has an "intervalometer" setting, whereby it will automatically take a picture at a set interval for up to 100 shots. You can use it for taking photos of flower buds opening and that kind of shit.
Anyway (!) I put it to the test last night. I set the camera on its little tripod on my bedside table and set the shutter to fire every 5 minutes. The green AF assist beam and shutter noise (must remember to turn off that sound effect) were only disturbing for the first two hours and I fell into a deep slumber. Unfortunately, I forgot to set the shutter speed appropriately, so there are about 80 frames of complete blackness until dawn started to break. My last hour of sleep was caught thusly:
How earily still is that? I missed the last one off where my eyes were half open, which gave me the appearance of a victim of a strangulation.
So that was fun.
Me and Anna did a hill this afternoon. The plan had been for her to come round this morning, we'd then do some shopping, then go up a hill. She arrived at 2.30, ate two lunches, was on the phone for an hour and we left at about 4pm. Still, this is us atop Holcombe Moor near Ramsbottom.
That's Winter Hill in the background and those are the masts that bring the North West of England its television. Blow the fucking things up and get the thick fuckers to learn to read is what I say, but I'm not in charge.
Holcombe Moor is home to Peel Tower, which was constructed in honour of local celebrity Sir Robert Peel, the former black pudding salesman who brought us or Boys in Blue (overweight, useless Nazis in stab-proof vests who never leave the safety of their vans unless they can get on the telly when it's a murder). You can see right into North Wales from up there. Well you could if the visibility wasn't always hampered by the shit weather we get here.
This is me in front of the tower. Yes, my trousers are tucked into my socks, I apologise; it's been raining a lot and, it being moorland, is very good at retaining water and being muddy.
There's also an MOD firing range near there. If we'd gone early enough, I was going to get Anna to try and find it.
Tell you what's good VFM? Flickr Pro: you pay £15 a year and you don't need to worry about reducing the size of photos before uploading them.
Oh! Feel free to add yourselves to my Frapper map thing over there>>>>>> (under my e-mail address). It'd be nice to build up a map of where everyone comes from. Does anybody get any Aussie visitors?
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