Caught on Film

I’ve said it before: I rarely win things.  I don’t often lose things either.  Makes my life sound a barrel of excitement doesn’t it?  It’s true though: I don’t often lose things, I mean misplace them, mislay them, can’t find them.  It’s a real surprise considering the shambolic state of most of my waking hours and criminal carelessness with which I tackle life.  No one who ever saw my desk would believe me.  I take it as quiet confirmation that any form of order is, in fact, nonsense.  At least that’s my experience from Greek restaurants.  This however was one of the rare occasions.  And, of course, I lost something that although important to me, was priceless to someone else.  Wedding photos.  Or rather the undeveloped film.

Photos are important to me.  I’m pretty carefree about most things.  Not because so I’m fabulously wealthy that everything becomes worthless or because I don’t appreciate value but because I don’t believe that many things, objects artefacts, items, possessions, really matter.  Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not saying that I own little, wear clothes with holes, live in a crumbling home and drive a clapped out old banger, although I do own little, wear clothes with holes, live in a crumbling home and drive a clapped out old banger.  That’s not my point.  Experiences are much more valuable to me.  That’s why photographs mean so much.  Photographs.  And the camera, obviously.  And the unnecessary accessories.  And books.  I like books.  And red wine and real ale.  And power tools.

It was just typical that on one of those You-wouldn’t-mind-taking-some-snaps-would-you?-It’s-the-most-important-day-of-our-life-but-please-don’t feel-under-an-pressure requests it all goes horribly wrong.  Not on the day of course.  That would be too easy.  On the day, everything went swimmingly.  And I hate this kind of pressure.  No this disaster bided its time.  I shot two and a half films, so ever mindful of waste, waited until the final film was all used before thinking about processing.  By then of course, one of the canisters is missing.  Missing.  We searched everywhere, every possible hiding place.  Even some impossible ones.  We called everyone remotely connected to the day.  But nothing. Nada.  Zilch.  Then we had to tell the bride and groom.

‘You know those shots beforehand?  Yes, the lovely ones in the ornate surroundings.  And the pictures of the ceremony itself?  Yes, with the rings and the kiss.  Yes, all the black and white ones.  Erm.  Well, we can’t find them.’

Shit.  I couldn’t even say I’d lost them, just couldn’t find them.

The worst part of the reaction was the lack of reaction.  There was a pause.  A moment of collection.  But then just a gracious, never mind, we have all the others response.  I felt like the biggest loser in the world.  And, of course, I was.

That was a couple of weeks ago.  Today we found it.  I’d put it somewhere safe.  Inside one of T’s boots.  Seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do at the time.  There must have been some logic to my thinking.  Inside one of her shoes?!  What in Heaven’s name was I thinking?  Was I thinking at all?  I forgot she has a million pairs.  She stubbed her toe on it today.  Hallelujah!  It was lost but now it’s found.  Albeit a little bit smelly.  T is limping with joy. 

It’s taught me a valuable lesson: T has too many shoes.

Comments

[The Boy Who Likes To]

Thats a good lesson to learn.

I hate those "lets put it somewhere safe" places, when they item then never gets found.

[Carlton]

What we really need is an especially safe place to keep directions to the other safe places. That would sort it. c.