Footbridge [revisited]

08 Dec 2006

I remember when I was a kid we'd go off on the annual family holiday somewhere across the pond (getting there on the ferry was half the adventure).We'd rent a (bolted to the ground) caravan for the two weeks and use that as our base to explore the surrounding towns, and various attractions. Sometimes the destination for the day was cool; a cave, a mine, or just a wander round the near-by city. Other times it was some boring stately home, crap museum about a long-since dead politician (?!) or a centuries old ruined castle (oh look, another pile of stones and a 'room' without a ceiling!).

But the thing that used to really frustrate us kids was when the old man would wait patiently for the hoards of people milling about the place to clear out of his shot. I'm sure I lost years of my childhood to just standing round, kicking the gravel and being utterly bored out of my damn mind as we all waited for him to take some bloody shot of some forgettable bloody mansion once owned by bloody Lord Whogivesafuk II!

How ironic (/painful) is it to realise you've just spent 20 minutes doing that exact same thing? That's how long I waited for the young giggling (foreign-student?) couple to get the hell off my bridge. I mean, how many fucking pictures of each other do you need? (You pose, then I pose, then you pose, then...) And really, after 5 minutes of arms-length self-taken photos with the two of you squinting into the sun I think you're done! ARGH! I was about ready to run up and push them over the railing! Fuckers!

Oh, original night-time version here.

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