Just popping out to buy dogfood...

A couple of days after New Year, and the stocks of human comestibles were still fairly plentiful - the last morsel of Christmas pudding was put out for the birds just the other day, the blue tits seem to like it though they do a lot of beak wiping afterwards. However, dog croquettes were very low, and the particular brand My Lady is recommended to eat by veterinarians is, for some reason, only sold in garden centres.

Cheapcam has the advantage of being easily slipped into a pocket, and the act of doing so, even if perceived by mine spouse, seems to occasion less in the way of eye-rolling and comments along the lines of 'so you won't be back for lunch then', then does the act of slinging the larger camera round my neck.

The garden centre of a morning turns out to be a rather good place to take photographs. The wide perspex type roof makes for a good diffuse light. Cyclamen are amongst the most popular post-Christmas flowers,

along with some rather blousey tulips disporting themselves to be pollinated by insects that never come.

I couldn't quite decide which what the object of focus ought to be, petals,

or stamens?

Hardly anyone was there, except the staff doing general housework duties.

The agaves were prickly customers, always rather frightening in their solidity, and hostile with thorns to any who get too close.

while the phormium presented a friendlier, more candy-striped aspect.

I pursued the theme of stripes, patterns and rhythm through the department of plant pots ( I've been reading my photography books you see...),

which also caution against over use of diagonals and dynamic tension:

' Just as the use of bright vibrant colours is instantly effective in an individual photograph but can become mannered if used constantly, so this kind of activation can also become wearing after a while...It's effect is usually spent very quickly, and the eye moves on...' (The Photographer's Eye, Michael Freeman, bloody good book in fact).

But I couldn't resist the bright colours of this range of kids' garden tools either,

and I was rather taken with the way sneaky little Mickey Mouse peers through the prongs of the miniature rake; the pure-hearted little sons and daughters of French soil may seem to be innocently being encouraged to participate in working the lands of their forefathers, but in fact they are really being inveigled into the evil empire of Uncles Walt and Sam! Nothing is as it seems...

I also couldn't resist the corniness of photographing myself taking the picture in the reflective surface of a vitreous green planter. I can see the shape of my finger coming up off the shutter. I'm quite glad I'm not a sophisticated clever photographer really, little things...

Anyway, the Powershot returned yesterday. I am smiling a lot. Even Tom says it feels as if the family is complete again. But I'll perhaps try to remember to keep the cheapcam in my pocket.