B&W gallery: going home

Office workers (?) going home under the Hungerford Bridge at Waterloo, while I waited for the

Mrs. to turn up for a concert at the Festival Hall. End of the day, end of the shift, end of the

week. End of the camera too - I dropped it shortly after taking this and bent the lens mount.

Fortunately the chip was still readable. Losing cameras is a bit of a recurring habit: two

Pentaxes left in a café in Istanbul, a film camera and a Nagra recorder nicked in Ecuador (and

two small stills cameras that were left in the care of my camera assistant at the airport while I

went to the loo: he forget about them and went to chat up two females), a Uher sound

recorder - with a vital recording of a Neapolitan street band still on it - somehow nicked from

the car while we were filming only thirty yards away on a remote part of the Vesuvius lava

field, a medium format Mamiya kit that was stolen during a break-in one night at our studio in

London, and a digital camera dropped in the mud at Pin Mill in Suffolk that will never work

again. Ah well, c'est la vie.

Office workers (?) going home under the Hungerford Bridge at Waterloo, while I waited for the

Mrs. to turn up for a concert at the Festival Hall. End of the day, end of the shift, end of the

week. End of the camera too - I dropped it shortly after taking this and bent the lens mount.

Fortunately the chip was still readable. Losing cameras is a bit of a recurring habit: two

Pentaxes left in a café in Istanbul, a film camera and a Nagra recorder nicked in Ecuador (and

two small stills cameras that were left in the care of my camera assistant at the airport while I

went to the loo: he forget about them and went to chat up two females), a Uher sound

recorder - with a vital recording of a Neapolitan street band still on it - somehow nicked from the

car while we were filming only thirty yards away on a remote part of the Vesuvius lava field, a

medium format Mamiya kit that was stolen during a break-in one night at our studio in London,

and a digital camera dropped in the mud at Pin Mill in Suffolk that will never work again. Ah well,

c'est la vie.

Going home