Archive for photography

Hornby King

Posted in canon, canon g10, copyright, foam, hornby, Humour, image, internet, media, model railroad, model railway, modelling, photography, trainspotting with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 8, 2014 by norvenmunky

Hornby Today Hornby’s Press department released an image (see above) of the latest Hornby product to be announced. In an unusual step they are allowing anybody to reproduce the image, it being “royalty” free.

Paradise City

Posted in canon, canon g10, entertainment, environment, exhibition, Humour, internet shopping, life, London, london underground, media, model railroad, model railway, modelling, photography, rail, travel, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 2, 2011 by norvenmunky

Albert Square 2010

Albert Square

We’ve all got our idea of a Paradise City, places we’ve been, lived, worked, read about, well this is mine, unashamedly, London. Where it all started was Lambeff, Albert Square to be precise, not that crappy beeb London one, but the real, sahf of the riva, see above. I never really thought about why I felt such an affinity with the Kings Cross area when I worked there, but re-visiting pictures it seems that the similar architecture of Georgian three storey architecture with basements and Portland stone probably made an impact on the two year old NM prior to heading out of town, a relief then to realise it wasn’t just the drink, prostitutes and drugs that captivated me on my return. Sometimes I wasted my money on toy trains.

MRM Kings Cross London

That led me to working at the Model Railway Manufacturing Co. Ltd. of York Way. The building has survived the recent development of the area and is now a restaurant. That will be somewhat ironic for the previous staff members who worked there, in that you can now order food to be eaten in the building, rather than using our shop intercom from three buildings away. That could be used, (allegedly), to order food in a cafe, Renzo’s, (three doors away), much to the dissapointment of the proprietor whom on opening an unsummoned dumb waiter, was to see ‘Dooamaneg’ glaring balefully at him on a grease laden sloppy plate…

The friendships built up there still last to this day, some of the antics still bring a wry smile to the face. As youngsters into ‘London’ it was important to find out the area, so we had a street map on the wall, theoretically, for customers who pre googlespace/mytube/facetwatter, wanted to know how to get from place to place. Well there was only one way to find out. Research.

St Pauls

There wasn’t a reseach budget as such, just an unerring faith in our ability to leave the shop at 13:01pm (without a map), ‘RLF’ for twenty to twenty five minutes, and then deliberately find a different route back to be through the door at 13:59pm. The result then being plotted on the map using the shop as the centre and a radius/range being drawn in with a compass. Therefore if a customer asked how long it took to walk to X, you could theoretically give an answer …

Thames from the 'right' side of the river ...

Now, Nm’s regular readers will already be seeing ‘potential’ for interesting and frank, free flowing discussion with ‘management’ on return to the shop, and to be fair there were a few occasisions when such discussion took place. I can recall one particular return trip that went ‘a bit wrong’. We’d headed south to Holborn, via Bloomsbury on a beautiful spring day, but had headed back to route up Grays Inn road. We’d been a bit too long and it wasn’t the first time we’d been bollocked for being late, so the pressure was on. The lack of map bit us here and we were actually lost but continued ducking and diving up side streets to head north. We came across a small playing field and thought we could see a way out at the far end, so we were ‘safe’ and stated to walk. At the end of the field we came to a brick wall, literally, about 8ft high, too high to see over. Doing the old schoolboy run at it and jump, scrabble up and sit on the top worked. The only problem there was, was a concrete yard the other side but with a bigger drop, and expensive cars, probably a law firms parking area. A shout and we simultaneously took our chance and dropped into the yard, splitting in opposite directions, just like the filums. We exited through two different gates running, followed by shouts of very rude words, from an old boy presumably in charge of ‘security’ having served on the Russian Convoys, and used to chasing cabin boys all over the decks. We got back to the shop in time for a summary bollocking, and every siren that sounded that afternoon had us on tenterhooks.

What it did do was to provide a better than ‘the knowledge’ knowledge of the part of North London around the Kings Cross area, including all the street life that entailed.

Trafalgar Square

Street life occaisionally came into the shop, where it was the job of whoever wasn’t ‘busy’ to remove them. Nm had a absolute pearler of a case where he very quickly learnt one of lifes lessons, this was re-inforced by ones colleagues ‘QFO’ing as soon as they realised the Quatermass pit sized whole Nm had dug himself. A lady came into the shop, looking a little distressed, but nothing un-usual to raise alarm bells. (Even at that time Nm was pretty streetwise, being able to identify a pimp/pro/ned/alchy/smackhead at twenty paces). It was a lunchtime, ‘may I use your toilet she asked?’, seemed reasonable, didn’t smell odd, she looked alright, ‘clean’, if you know what I mean, if you don’t … Well, yep Nm says and showed her the way (to the bog).

After about five mins she hadn’t re-appeared. Helpfull comments and queries such as ‘is she still in there?’ from my colleagues rapidly followed, countered with ‘Yeh, she’s probably reading a paper or summat’ from an increasingly intrigued worried Nm. Well a good half an hour passed, questioned through the door, ‘are you alright luv?’ from Nm, his colleagues helpfully asking ‘how are you going to get her out then?’ When on Top Gear one of the guys gets left by the others whilst taking the piss as they leave is just so true, it’s almost a right of passage, and when it happens to you with the right bunch of mates it almost makes it alright. Now the crapper was on the stairs and Nm had to hovver near it to appear like he was just going for one whenever the bosses appreared, to prevent them asking any awkward questions, like ‘WTF is the smackhead doing in the crapper?’

After a good hour or so Nm was thinking I’m going to
a/ have to go in, but the door is locked from the inside …
b/ tell the boss the smell isn’t in fact one of Bri’s unholy ones
c/ just run away

There was a dreadful groaning from the crapper, which was peculiar for Nm. It at least meant that the tart wasn’t dead, but filled him with the dread of getting the aforementioned ‘trollied’ bint out of the shop, negotiating her past a counter full of customers, ‘interested’ colleagues and a security camera attached to a CCTV. The thought of dragging or firemans lifting an unconscious bird through the shop and being caught on camera (again) just filled him with ‘bowell water’ making fear. It is at these times that you realise why adrenaline is brown and leads to real moments of fear inspired brilliance. There were two front doors to the shop, No14 and No12, No12 rarely used. If the bint could be steered through the rear stock room, past the phone and map to No12, there was a real chance she could be released into the wild relatively discretely. So Nm managed to lift the latch of the door at No12, easing it shut so the boss couldn’t see it was open, and as soon as the bint opened the door to the karzi, at about the hour + fifteen mark, he very quickly shoved, escorted her to the other door where on leaving she belched a projectile stream of the foulest smelling puke Nm’s ever had the displeasure to encounter. Well you’ve read the blog, you can easily imagine…
Nm slammed the door behind her and turned to see the boss who had come down the other stairs looking at him very oddly. ‘Whats up’ he said?, ‘Oh just some drunken tart who’s puked in 12’s doorway’ Nm straightface replied. Seemed to work. There were a few comments re the whiff from No14’s crapper though, it stank as though someone had emptied the entire waste contents of Smithfield, Covent Garden and Billingsgate and a bit of soggy cardboard into the smallest room. Nm gave it a quick clean, and declared it clear of sharps and fit for use, (the tart that is, not the bog).

In true team spirit the smell was blamed on Bri.
It’s what mates are for.

Millenium Bridge

Albert Sq piccies from http://www.flickr.com/photos/sczscz/

Shot Down in Flames

Posted in canon, Darwin Awards, Humour, insurance, life, photography, Uncategorized, Zoo with tags , , , , , on September 6, 2010 by norvenmunky

'Management' UK PLc

Today NM has been ‘painting da house’ in a literal sense. Those of you who’ve been here know the top of ‘da house’ is a long way up. To get to the top of the house one needs ladders (plural), or one fecking huge one. NM chose the latter which was delivered today by a cheery bastard, whom as he unloaded them said ‘It’s a nice day for it’, clearly not having a scooby as to what ‘it’ was for NM for the remainder of the day. NM just looked at him with his best ‘sandwich filler’ killer look as he then asked what job NM was going to do with them. NM nodded backwards to the house, and wrote that he understood that:

A/ NM should carry the ladders so the ends were ‘high enough to clear other peoples heads’.
B/ When carrying it NM should remember the ‘overhang’ in front and behind him.
C/ The temptation to look down should be resisted.
D/ NM shouldn’t erect it in a high wind.
E/ NM was not to forget the basic rule, ‘One man, One ladder’.
Nm was now unsure as to whether he was signed up as an extra for a Laurel and Hardy movie or Mad Max Beyond the Thunderdome,

‘Two Ladders Enter, One Ladder leaves’ …

Seeing the paint tub, the gable end and the ladder (or film contract I’d just signed), his cogs engaged. ‘Kinell, rather you than me’ was the wisdom he imparted as he QFO’ed, en route to deliver a cement mixer to someone whom would be wondering if they thought he was going to be making ‘Italian diving boots’, as he signed the consent form. Ta, ta a lot.

It got NM thinking about a few things though, recently, NM having an interest in photography came across an interweb thread about the latest Canon upgrade to the 400mm F2.8. If you don’t know what they are, they are the big grey dustbin sized lens’ that you often see sports snappers use. There were a number of posts along the liners of ‘ooh its expensive’ (£11k GBP), ‘Thats crazy money. Surely they will drop sharpley in a few months when they stop being “new”. Still, that puts the 400mm 2.8 at £1500 more then the 800mm 5.6’ and, ‘They’ve reduced its weight by 1.5kg ‘What’s 1.5kgs less when you’re still humping 3.8 kgs around’. You do have to wonder which solar sytem they inhabit if you understand what the lens is about and the pro end of the markets technical requirements.

'Window lickers' Move on, nothing to see here ...

Posts like those make me think of monkeys at the zoo. It’s like offering the monkeys Tesco ‘Value’ peanuts, or KP’s finest and asking for an informed opinion on their respective merits. We all know they’d make cock all difference to the monkeys as they’d still be sticking them up their @rses not appreciating that ‘KP is committed to selling only the best quality products, this is why we are the UK’s favourite nut brand’. It’s a bit like watching foamers debate which is best, Ferrari or Porsche, and you just know the closest they’ve ever got to one is licking the windows at HR Owens and watching endless repeats of Top Gear on ‘Dave’ …

The other day at Asda, NM and the till assistant were left almost speechless at the Asda management ability to over engineer the simplest of processes for security purposes, and render it utterly worthless as part of the same process. If there were ‘Darwin Awards’ for management policies this would likely be a strong contender. Feel free to send your Darwin Management Awards in, there’s no prizes, least of all for the mangers concerned …

Our Asda has a pay to park, ( no issue with that), take the parking ticket refund stub in and get a refund after spending ‘X’, beer tokens. ( we’re probably all on the same page at this point). Pay at till for goods.
Asda bloke at till says: ‘Would you like parking taken off bill or cash refund?’
NM ‘Cash please’
Asda bloke ‘Ahh you need to go to customer services, they do the cash, I can’t give you the cash, I’m not allowed to open the till if you’re paying by card for security reasons’
NM (seeing huge queue of ‘Neds’ waiting to buy fags), ‘Fair enuff, take it off the bill please’
Asda bloke ‘OK sorry about that etc’ takes stub, swipes it, completes card transaction, and, as if by magic, the till opens to allow him to place the stubb in the till …
NM ‘So you can’t open the till to give me the pound refund due to security, but the till has to open to allow you to put the refund stub in?
Asda bloke ‘Yup’, looks at me with a twinkle in his eye and says ‘Minds greater than our’s sir, minds greater than ours’…

There’s almost certainly some utter, utter, buffoon out there, who thinks that his Asda ‘colleagues’ are significantly more ‘secure’ all thanks to his efforts …

Todays score: Darwin 1 Management 0

Let’s Get It Up

Posted in canon g10, entertainment, Humour, life, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on January 16, 2010 by norvenmunky

These past weeks I have mostly been decorating. This means one is ‘supervised’ as one cannot clearly be trusted to

A/ Not paint nob shaped murals on the wall
B/ Do any work

You don't have to paint one on the wall ....

Whilst under supervision in the big room a set of aloominum ladders was in use. The big room has some big windows in it and said ladders were in the vicinity of the big windows. The ladders were in use for painting the ceiling, and NM had descended from height to replenish the bucket of ‘Pure, Brilliant, Shite’. Having stepped off the ladder and now turning his attention to not spilling the paint on the floor, Mrs NM, (Supervisor, Nob Mural Prevention Section), shouts out NM’s name. Now needless to say NM looks at ‘Supervisor’ and asks ‘What?’ Supervisor is shouting, and she’s nearly as loud as Mr Rukin when he’s frightening the bog into the corner, by kneeling on the floor, and shouting at it.

Now even with a few pints ‘in the bank’, I know, who I am, and, my name. So, whilst sober, the thought occurs that the supervisor has now engaged in some sort of bizzare charades game, where she doesn’t even bother with a mime, merely points at the object in question (me), and shouts it’s name. ‘Do I need to be bigger than a dog?’ I’m thinking, and ‘this is a bit easy’, when the silence is broken by a metallic crash as the ladders just miss the big window, and end up on the big floor. At the subsequent somewhat ‘public’ enquiry, the idea of shouting was allegedly to gain my attention to the falling ladder. This is obviously a ‘wimin’ thing.

Now, there’s two distinct, and different, approaches here. Blokes would shout ‘ladder’ at the very least, thus drawing attention to the problem area, the ladder. Wimin think the same way, but rather than the ladder being the ID’ed problem, it’s the bloke that’s ID’ed as the ‘problem area’, hence being shouted at. The ladder clearly having been relegated to ‘bit player’ in the ensuing chaos.

Still I’m going to get my own back. New year resolutions mean that one is being herded at gunpoint towards an evening ‘Polaris’ class, or something that sounds like that, I wasn’t paying that much attention to be honest. I imagine that means loads of wimin stretching, grunting and rolling around on the floor pretending to be submarines. It’ll only be a matter of time before I’m sent home in disgrace having demonstrated the ‘up periscope’ position …

White Christmas

Posted in canon, canon g10, life, macro, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on December 25, 2009 by norvenmunky

Happy Christmas

Snow Bird

Posted in birds, canon, canon g10, life, photography with tags , , , , , , , , on December 8, 2009 by norvenmunky

With the snow falling on the blog, thought I’d give this a try …

Don’t Ask Me No Questions

Posted in canon, canon g10, film, Humour, life, macro, media, photography, rail, Tornado, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on February 13, 2009 by norvenmunky
60163 Tornado

60163 Tornado

It’s and odd thing photography sometimes, it can be social, and antisocial, it can be a hobby or it can be work, for me I’ve had examples of all of those. This weekend I wanted to get a few pictures of the steam engine above, I knew the time it would be coming past, I’d got an idea of the location I wanted, and duly set myself up and waited. One thing that does occur I’ve noticed particularly with an FBL, (rather large lens), is that it attracts gimps. It is capable of doing this over quite large distances, and Saturday was no exception.

Gimp Field

Gimp Field

If I have to cross a field, I make sure I go round the edge, or on rare ossaisions use a tractors wheel furrow, that way you don’t significantly damage young crops, as you’re using established pathways, and the farmers that have spoken to me are up to date pretty understanding, offering them a copy of the snap you’ve taken also helps, they seem to appreciate the offer, though none have actually taken me up on the offer as yet. Anyway, if you look at the field above you can see no footprints, despite the fact I’m well into the field. It wasn’t long before a lens spotter turned up. They seem to draw comfort or have some sort of ‘need’ to stand next to the bloke with the biggest equipment, I wonder if they do the same in the changing rooms of life too?
Picture the scene,
Gimp, Hi, that’s enormous what do you use it for?
Snapper, Sport mostly, thats ‘dinky’ what do you use that for?
Gimp, Oh just snaps,
Snapper, Aah, probably best you just use it for that then …

Changing Room
Gimp, Hi, that’s enormous what do you use that for?
Sports Jock, ‘Sport’ mostly, thats ‘dinky’ what do you use it for?
Gimp, Oh just urinating,
Sports Jock, Aah, probably best you just use it for that then …

Sure enough I’d got set up and was checking the field of view settings etc etc, and I noticed a solitary figure trudging across the field toward me, a nice bright jacket on and a camera bag. ‘Here’s one’ I thought and I wasn’t to be diassapointed either. With a 400mm lens I’m going to be standing a fair distance away from the subject, as I was, however Mr Gimp turned up, and stood right next to me and started asking questions, despite the fact I’m obviously busy ‘chimping’ after different test shots. The questions are usually deadly dull too, but at sports events, airshows, and anywhere you get the lens out, you will get a sheep herd like mentality of ‘follow the big one’, and it gets a bit fecking tedious. Why they suddenly have to be near or stand next to the biggest lens is beyond me. Its not just my lens, I’ve seen it happen to others too.

Mind you size does have its advantage too, a big grey one is an instant press pass, and I’ve blagged a gate on more than one occasion, get the tool out, look a bit flustered as you walk/rush, (rushing is particularly effective), to the gate searching for the ‘pass’, ‘sorry mate, can’t find it’, ‘oh thats ok in ya go’ (he must be a pro with one that size) …

It’s not that it’s not nice to occaisionally chat about snapping etc, but if theres an ‘event’ about to happen, or happening, and the snapper looks a bit busy, it’s because they probably are, nothing personal, but big shineys need to earn their keep …