3, 2, 1, Back in the Room
You might be forgiven for wondering what the title’s about, although at the same time you may also be used to seeing rambling yarns in this feed that bear little relation to the accompanying photo. Suffice to say that yesterday’s events delivered a degree of concerned introspection as I puzzled over why my entire Flickr stream had vanished and I’d been renamed “Striped Tank.” I’m not a tiger or a zebra and I don’t drive a tank. I do drive a car that’s built like a tank but I’m yet to discover where the rear machine gun has been mounted. What was important was that for almost an entire day, more than seven years of building a collection of stories had apparently vanished forever. More than seven years of building virtual friendships with so many of you was hanging in the balance. “Had I been hacked?” I wondered, as urgently I checked my online bank accounts to check that the two pound coins were still safely stored in their secret chamber under the floorboard in the attic. No, it seemed I wouldn’t need to return to working for a living after nearly six weeks of lounging around not doing anything important.
It was one of you who’d alerted me to the fact that I now only existed in the shadows with the bracketed word “deleted” as a banner of shame next to my name. You also persuaded me not to give up in desperation and start considering alternative platforms. Thank you Lisa for all of your very supportive messages and advice during my brief flirtation with creative oblivion. Thank you to the rest of you who spotted the news on other social media, which I hastily contrived to alert you to the fact that the next time you heard from me here, that it would actually be me and not an online doppelganger. While all of this was going on I’d contacted the people who operate this magical world in which we exist together to try and find out what I’d done wrong, or whether I’d been the hapless victim of a gremlin in the system. I’m still none the wiser, but by the evening it seemed that I existed again, albeit with no followers or followees (my spellchecker doesn’t like this word) at all. By bedtime this too had been resolved, and I had a hundred more followers than I did on Monday. I was following five more people as well. Perhaps you’re one of them, wondering why I’ve reappeared in your feed after you’d decided you’d had enough of me hanging around. If you don’t mind just giving me a stay of execution, I’ll do my best to up my game and share more compelling images with you. More interestingly, I’ve posted an extra photograph somewhere. I only know this because the one on Monday was number 500. I can’t wait to see whether the mystery 501st shot made it onto the Explore page, or whether in fact it was me that took it. It’s going to be like playing a game of “Where’s Wally?” Meanwhile, I’m busy saving all of those stories, so that when the gremlins decide the time has come to excommunicate me again, at least I still have them archived. So many stories; so many great memories I didn’t want to forget.
The restoration of my feed also meant that I didn’t have to spend any more time wondering which of my images to repost first – I was leaning towards the black and white shot at Skogafoss in Iceland and the story of the sandwich bags. But now I can share a new image from the windswept ridge above Hay on Wye. What was especially lovely about this was that I was already here, sitting behind my tripod when my friend grazed its way into the frame and stole the limelight. With the telephoto lens I was able to zoom in to exclude the sky completely and use a shallow depth of field to defocus the distant backdrop of the valley below. It almost sounds like I know what I’m doing doesn’t it?
So thanks again to you all for being here and being so supportive, and thanks especially to my friend in Pennsylvania who persuaded me to cling on and grit my teeth during those angst filled moments of yesterday.
Oh - and you may have missed Tuesday's post, which disappeared not long after I'd uploaded it. Do feel free to browse..........
3, 2, 1, Back in the Room
You might be forgiven for wondering what the title’s about, although at the same time you may also be used to seeing rambling yarns in this feed that bear little relation to the accompanying photo. Suffice to say that yesterday’s events delivered a degree of concerned introspection as I puzzled over why my entire Flickr stream had vanished and I’d been renamed “Striped Tank.” I’m not a tiger or a zebra and I don’t drive a tank. I do drive a car that’s built like a tank but I’m yet to discover where the rear machine gun has been mounted. What was important was that for almost an entire day, more than seven years of building a collection of stories had apparently vanished forever. More than seven years of building virtual friendships with so many of you was hanging in the balance. “Had I been hacked?” I wondered, as urgently I checked my online bank accounts to check that the two pound coins were still safely stored in their secret chamber under the floorboard in the attic. No, it seemed I wouldn’t need to return to working for a living after nearly six weeks of lounging around not doing anything important.
It was one of you who’d alerted me to the fact that I now only existed in the shadows with the bracketed word “deleted” as a banner of shame next to my name. You also persuaded me not to give up in desperation and start considering alternative platforms. Thank you Lisa for all of your very supportive messages and advice during my brief flirtation with creative oblivion. Thank you to the rest of you who spotted the news on other social media, which I hastily contrived to alert you to the fact that the next time you heard from me here, that it would actually be me and not an online doppelganger. While all of this was going on I’d contacted the people who operate this magical world in which we exist together to try and find out what I’d done wrong, or whether I’d been the hapless victim of a gremlin in the system. I’m still none the wiser, but by the evening it seemed that I existed again, albeit with no followers or followees (my spellchecker doesn’t like this word) at all. By bedtime this too had been resolved, and I had a hundred more followers than I did on Monday. I was following five more people as well. Perhaps you’re one of them, wondering why I’ve reappeared in your feed after you’d decided you’d had enough of me hanging around. If you don’t mind just giving me a stay of execution, I’ll do my best to up my game and share more compelling images with you. More interestingly, I’ve posted an extra photograph somewhere. I only know this because the one on Monday was number 500. I can’t wait to see whether the mystery 501st shot made it onto the Explore page, or whether in fact it was me that took it. It’s going to be like playing a game of “Where’s Wally?” Meanwhile, I’m busy saving all of those stories, so that when the gremlins decide the time has come to excommunicate me again, at least I still have them archived. So many stories; so many great memories I didn’t want to forget.
The restoration of my feed also meant that I didn’t have to spend any more time wondering which of my images to repost first – I was leaning towards the black and white shot at Skogafoss in Iceland and the story of the sandwich bags. But now I can share a new image from the windswept ridge above Hay on Wye. What was especially lovely about this was that I was already here, sitting behind my tripod when my friend grazed its way into the frame and stole the limelight. With the telephoto lens I was able to zoom in to exclude the sky completely and use a shallow depth of field to defocus the distant backdrop of the valley below. It almost sounds like I know what I’m doing doesn’t it?
So thanks again to you all for being here and being so supportive, and thanks especially to my friend in Pennsylvania who persuaded me to cling on and grit my teeth during those angst filled moments of yesterday.
Oh - and you may have missed Tuesday's post, which disappeared not long after I'd uploaded it. Do feel free to browse..........