Filthy negatives and I got no wash. I forget how to wash negatives. I vaugley remember using a little detergent . Or Alcohol? If only there were some kind of box you could write your questions into and get instant answers.

IF such a box existed I would certainly not be lazy and would have used it to gain information and wash the negatives before scanning them and uploading them into the sky.

One photolab on the whole coast, and this is the shit they give me.


Double Ender

I dreamt of eating my fill in the months leading up to our few days in Paris.

I awoke at 3am on our second day with strange gut cramps and spend the next 4 hours on the toilette shitting and puking until the sun was up.

I could barely eat a thing all day. Which upset me more than the sickness itself.

The Louvre was a hothouse. Swarming with people taking selfies with phones mounted on sticks. A Magnificent palace full of centuries of art. That barely got a second glance from my self pitying arse.

And in the afternoon we climbed the steps to the Sac re Cur. We went inside and a placid looking 50 foot tall JesusĀ  greeted us with open arms and a kind smile. Nuns started singing and it was kinda magic.

We bought a coolish Heineken on the steps of the church and looked out over the rows of alleyways hills leading to the guts of the city as the sun dipped.

I ate a piece of stale baguette for dinner and slept well knowing I’d make up for it tomorrow.