I have a love/hate relationship with my face. I love having one, it serves as a convenient place to hang assorted body parts; but I hate the way that it looks. I manage this problem by avoiding mirrors wherever possible. The morning shave is achieved by squinting, and concentrating on the point being shaved; and for the rest of the day I avoid interaction with all reflective surfaces. Problem solved.

I bought my Canon 1D Mark 3 more than four years ago. Since then it has repaid its rather substantial purchase price several times over doing sports and event photography for clients who are happy to pay for the photos but would not be happy for me splashing them all over Pattaya Days (there are no babes involved so you are not missing anything).

A couple of years ago Canon introduced the Mark 4 which was faster and produced bigger and better images; but I was happy with my Mark 3 and planned to wait till the Mark 4 dropped in price before upgrading. Now Canon have announced the 1DX which will be available around April of next year, which means the Mark 4 price is starting to drop. But it also appears that Canon are stopping production, because it is becoming hard to find and prices seem to be creeping up again.

Which is a long-winded excuse for why I travelled to Chonburi this morning and picked up a Mark 4.

Been quite a spike in viewing figures since the Andrew Drummond article. Time to trim things back a bit by posting what appears to receive almost universal condemnation; a polo photo….

Comments 🔗

2012-01-25 | Jock says

Spike, that was seriously funny and deserves a comment … perhaps your mainly non-european readership has no feckin´clue as to what is happenning in europe … it´s all going to pot … not the smoking kind as that could be forgiven … the only bright light is that Scotland might finally gain independance from Westminster and we will all become as rich as the Arabs or the Norwegians overnight on the back of all that oil wealth …. sadly it´s about 30 years too late … Sheikh Jock

Civilisation does not always progress.

Take Songkran. Originally a gently time where fresh water was sprinkled on the shoulders of loved ones; and now an opportunity for drunks on the back of trucks to spray iced sewage using high-pressure water guns at anyone within range.

Take also Loy Krathong. A time to pay homage to the water spirits by launching a small raft (krathong) made of natural materials onto a lake or sea. In my early days in Bangkok I would go to Lumpini Park and and the lake would be full of krathongs, their candles glowing and their incense sticks smoking the air. A beautiful site and, in the early morning, men with nets would scoop up all the krathongs and the park would be clean.

And then there is Pattaya. Beach Road is rammed with stalls selling the usual tat, with the addition of krathongs made of anything cheap that will float and is not biodegradable. Beach Road hookers are driven into the nearby malls where the bright lighting revealss the true horror of what you would wake up to the following morning, assuming you have not been drugged and robbed.

On the beach, it is mayhem. Small, unsupervised boys play with fireworks and it is a lottery as to whether they will lose a hand or you will lose an eye; you pray for the former if only to teach the little bastards a lesson. Hopeful Thais and bemused tourists light their krathong candles which sputter and are extinguished in the wind before the little boats are launched into the fetid water. There they bob, thousands together, like a sad, crap Marie Celeste convention, before gradually drifting out to sea to be a hazard to windsurfing for a while before sinking to the deep to destroy marine habitats for years.

It’s she who must be obeyed’s day off, and we head off to Bang Saray for a seafood lunch. There is one particular restaurant that we have been frequenting for years, right next to the water with great food at reasonable prices.

Over lunch we discuss Pattaya Days and the recent Jeff event.

You have to stop being rude.

I like being rude, I’m English and it’s what we do best.

No more Jeff pieces.

Oh, alright.

And stop being nasty about property developers.

Not sure I can go that far.

But I made an attempt and on the way home we checked out some developments that have previously been subject to the scorn of Spike.

I had previously mocked the difference between the mock-up model and the actual site for The Axis. Passing there today, it was a little heartening to see that they had actually started building the thing, in fact they were making pretty good progress.

Told the GF1 that its days may be numbered, so to cheer it up I went out and pointed it at some yellow flowers with three different lenses.

In the vast expanse that is she who must be obeyed’s wardrobe, there is a small musty corner allocated for my limited collection of T-shirts, shorts and jeans.

It’s my own fault. Whilst I am happy to ruin a credit card balance in pursuit of a shiny new toy, I have zero interest in the purchase of clothes. The need to buy a jacket for Tic’s wedding left a hole in my soul that will take time to mend. Other than the jacket, I can’t recall when I last bought any clothes. She who must be obeyed tries to compensate for my tramp inclinations by using her own money to buy me smart T-shirts and throwing out the the really manky ones when I am not looking.