I quit!

The sun had already risen when Willow and I left the flat at 5:30 this morning. Willow is now almost mended...her limp, which had been plaguing her for months after she lost her toe, has virtually gone since I trod on her foot and kind of popped it two weeks ago. It would be fair to say she is improving in leaps and bounds.

The sky was a flawless azure blue, no wind stirred the leaves as we crossed the concrete and tarmac ribbon onto the grassy sward we've walked for the last 11 years. I never grow tired of what vistas will be thrown at me. This morning in the early morning low sun The Dancers, swirls of fog and mist, fox-trotted and waltzed in the valley beside the river. They invited me, as always, to join in their dance, but I am too old, to creaky, to do their ballet justice.

Willow had her head buried in the turf, beekling away, inhaling the doggy news-print that informed her of the events of the last few days. Her instincts primed, cat-like, she entirely missed the cat-like cat that fled from a spot six feet from her rapidly inhaling hooter. The cat's sprint became a saunter as he realised that he was fleeing the world's least adept detective, one who was possibly incapable of finding a smell in a sewer.

I looked up.

Above me a jet aeroplane, a tin-can of humanity balistically hurled south, was about to cross in front of the moon. Both the 'plane and the moon were of the same rich silver, and I realised that if I could get the photo just right it would look as if the moon were giving birth to the aircraft. I had the kit 18-50m lens on...it wouldn't do, but I had the 70-300 lens in my pocket. If I approached this calmly I could still get the shot of the year. Right. Calm. I took a breath.

The 70-300 came out of my pocket. I loosed the end cap and grasped it between my knees. Turning the Sony so the lens faced downwards I removed the kit lens, and took the end cap from the telephoto. Gah! I fumbled the swap, nearly dropped the lens cap. Don't flap! Calm! You have time!

There! The end cap was on the kit lens. The telephoto snicked into place on the A57 body. I grinned to myself. I still had time! Lens cap! Don't forget the lens cap! I dropped the lens cap in my pocket and looked up. I still had seconds to spare to focus, frame and...

I stood, put the camera to my eye and switched it on.

Silence.

I turned it off and on again.

The *Click buzz* as the lens snapped in to focus again falied to happen. I watched as the photo of the century happened and passed.

And then I remembered.

I'd taken tha battery out last night. It was on the charger. In the living room.

I hereby temder my resignation from any perception that I may be a comptent photographer...

aww bless you - but it did make me laugh!

xx

That made me laugh!

Excellent - unfortunately I've been there on more than one occasion.