Going out of my tree at the age of seventeen, I wrote a list of jobs I felt I might be able to do in order to stay borderline sane. One of them was photographer. My father had been a member of the camera club and had a Fujica camera with a handful of lenses and a Cine camera with which he used to film our holidays in Ireland and our opening of presents on Christmas morning. He gave me an old compact camera one time and I remember taking photographs in Ireland and out in the garden where I would wait trying to catch a squirrel or perhaps even the fox that used to come in the evenings.

We used to get out photographs developed from Truprint. We would send them off in the green envelopes you would find on motorway service stations and they would come back to great fanfare in envelopes of 6" x 4" glossy prints we were to handle at the edges with washed hands. For each film sent off there would be another roll, a cannister of the standard 35mm film they call "kino film" over here in the Czech Republic, or the idiot-proof drop in cartridges I had in my first compact.

Later, studying sound engineering at Sandwell College, I would do one day a week in Wednesbury, working in a dark room, going around the town taking photographs and being chased away from door handles by mardy jobsworth Halfords staff.

Which was roundabouts where I was at when I started to go out of my tree.

Other cameras would follow, and there would be a digital phase upon the inheritance of a Minolta D5 digital camera from my brother who had been similarly infected. I never took it seriously. Writing, for good or ill, was to be my thing. But neither did I ever drop it.

It is for that reason that I plan to set up a Lychee photo hosting software here or within Marginálie