Archives for posts with tag: photography

After 18 long years, I’ve finally made my return to the land of the great and powerful Oz but alas, already I find myself on the eve of my return trip home; another 26 hours of my life shared with my headphones, shite food and the elbows of the fat man next to me. And that’s just my Dad…

Reading of my friend Hannah’s exploits in Philadelphia last summer (which she’s only just gotten round to writing about now) I was reminded that yet again, I have left too long a period between this entry and my last and that being here in Sydney was a prime time to sit down and document another major event in my life.

Having said that, I’m not sure how major it was; it wasn’t my wedding we were here for but a close friend’s. Perhaps major because my Mum and I managed it without attempting to kill the other?

You know, that is enough of an achievement in itself so yes, I consider this trip a milestone.

I guess I should really start with he happy couple, Ellis and Amy:


It’s been a fantastic trip but I’m disappointed it’s over, having looked forward to it for so long. It has failed to disappoint however, proving a fantastic opportunity for drinking, clubbing and taking pictures.


Bizarrely, the best pictures I’ve taken have been with my iPhone and not the SLR I was gifted specifically for this trip.

Partying prevailed as the chosen activity of choice which got in the way of climbing the bridge, surfing and bungee-jumping. All activities I had been intending on doing for most of this year…

Despite having chickened out, I am not ashamed as now I have a reason to return to this wonderful city sometime in the (hopefully) near future.

Aside from the wedding, there were one or two other opportunities I was presented with while we were here. We took a trip to Summer Bay and met a few members of the cast. I has my picture with Steve Peacock “Brax” merely for the ability to make my old boss from work jealous. Worked a treat…


The girls were a little more obsessed however, particularly Amy who’s been a fan of the show for years. When she wasn’t looking, my Mum got the chance to ask Brax to record a quick congratulatory message for her and Ellis to be played on their wedding day. It went down a treat also.



There’s plenty to see here too, some of it quite spectacular:


Some of it quite immature…


Some of it just plain terrifying!


Despite that, it’s been a really insightful trip. I’ve learned never to attempt a fight with a British airways desk clerk (expecting to win), Brax is spelt with an X, not a KS and nothing, repeat nothing is more important than a session in the gym…

Anyway, I’m now off to enjoy a cheeky Shiraz in the lounge before the 26 hour countdown to seeing my car again is over.



I recently bought a mountain bike… That’s right, the boy who loves nothing more than spending a few hours in front of his Mac doing very little whatsoever has found an outdoor activity that he actually enjoys.

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I went back to Loch Muick again this afternoon, having had some luck with the sun last week, in an attempt to get something I’d be as proud of a second time around at Lochnagar.

Bad news? I failed… The reason being I had assumed one could wander back up there again with something better on ones feet and make it all the way up to Lochnagar and back in a single afternoon.

This isn’t the case. As it turned out, after visiting the information shack, it was going to take around 8 hours to make it there and back again. Having rocked up there at 2.30PM in the afternoon, this left me with little time to make it, but I went anyway. I was met with this when I broke through the trees…


It’s snowed even more since I was here last week, and there was a gale blowing a frigid 2 degree wind in my face. Couple that with constantly going through the snow and finding myself up to my knee’s in it, I called it an afternoon and went home. The good news is I did manage to get one or two worth showing and I’ve put them underneath!

Next time I go, I’ll plan ahead; take something to eat, a thicker jacket and make sure I’ve left myself enough time!


Post 40. A milestone I guess! I’m marking it by starting something new: I’m replacing some of my ramblings with something a little more creative and probably a lot less boring…

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This post is over a week late. I’m sorry.

I had the house to myself last week. With my life being as rock-and-roll (not to mention not worth living, should I choose to throw a rager in my Mothers absence) as it is, I decided to take advantage of my solitude and temporary bachelor-ism to bounce around my house on a Friday night blasting Michael Bublé and Phil Spector’s respective Christmas albums, bottle of Crabbies ginger beer in my hand, and accomplish this:


Yes, my Christmas tree matches the living room; there ain’t a thing traditional about it minus the star on top, which I had to stand on the sofa AND STILL pull the tree over to mount. My rant about small person problems the world-over still to come.

I was pretty chuffed, it got me some brownie points too.

Anyway, I’m just using this post as an excuse to try out the gallery feature on here. I’ve not used it before…if I like it, I might go back and change all my entries about Italy last year in an attempt to show off some kind of photographic prowess.





So as you all know by now, and if not you’re about to find out, I’m a bit of a social-media mogul; Tumbling through a world of pressed-words, Books of Faces and incessant Twattering. I also enjoy posting photos of various events in my life, tinted with various vintage hue’s, on Instagram.

First off, I’m not much of a photographer. Sure I can take a photo of something at a jaunty angle, enhance it by removing the red from people’s eyes (or in my case, the stubborn smattering of acne I’ve suffered with since puberty) with iPhoto and shove it out there for the rest of the world to see, but that’s as far as my efforts really go. A mate got me into Instagram, saying he wanted me as a follower because his dream was to have one of his photo’s make the Popular Page.

He should know who he is, he recently changed his Handle to include the word ‘official’ like he’s some kind of celebrity… 😉

I enjoy it. I follow a myriad of famous people, celebrities and friends, who all post graphic evidence of their life achievements, day-to-day happenings and meals…

However, it also has to be one of the most self-indulgent, vain media platforms out there today. Sure I grant you that, as I sit on my flight to Amsterdam tapping this out on my phone, it’s pretty self-indulgent for me to expect folk to want to read this after I post it. However, I encourage you all to write a blog about my flaws. I assure you, you’d have plenty to write about!

I will point out now, that I love writing. I do this as a hobby; anyone who reads and has something to say about it is just a bonus. I welcome the feedback. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll break out on my own as a journalist and become as condescending, arrogant and wealthy as Piers Morgan; writing a column for an upper middle-class Sunday supplement. Without the phone hacking scandal of course. To get involved in anything like that, just for a tacky news story, would just be silly.

Instagram was developed to allow people to see your life through the lens of your iPhone. (Yes, it was originally developed only as an iOS app.) With the advent of Photo Stream, it also allowed users to share photos you take with your digital camera and import to your computer.

As with everything however (and Facebook and Twitter are no different) folk have taken it upon themselves to clog Instagram’s data centre with nothing but photos of themselves; cross-referencing them with an array of hash-tags hence ensuring maximum exposure to others equally as vain.

“This is me with my head to the left.” “This is me with my head to the right with my hand on my hip. #girl #blonde #pretty”

Gads… It really is sickening.

Those of you who know me personally, and follow me on Instagram, will have seen me make a similar attempt whilst at the gym a few weeks ago; targeting some of my satire at both those who check-in at the gym only to let those associated with them know they ‘work out,’ and those who perpetually fill my Instagram feed with photos of themselves.

Whilst waiting in the airport this morning, I read an interesting piece on the increase in web traffic seen on Instagram, during the recent US election. The service saw a growth of 2.5x it’s normal volume of uploads (some 120,000 images) from Americans, all sharing their experiences as part of the 2012 election; all under the banner of #USelection2012. Granted, some of them were stupid enough to post photo’s of their actual votes. Sadly, this was enough to render them null and void.

Allowing others to share your experiences and connect with each other from afar is what the Internet is about. Well, apart from that other use the Internet has; the unofficial reason most teenage boys and lonely men have for it. It’s not a place for us to constantly show our faces from a different angle, hoping that someone out there will give us the positive comment we’re all desperate to get once more; that will further inflate and prop-up our ego’s.

Instagram is a place designed to demonstrate creativity; to inspire. I mean, after all, if you’re going to post a selfie on the Internet, would you not rather it was for your friends enjoyment?
Yes, I did in fact pull this face, snap a photo of it and iMessage it to two people, as part of a game we play each day. No there is not a pane of glass between myself and the camera. You can find some others, equally as misfortunate, on Instagram by searching on the hash-tag #instamackaill.

For more dry, nonsensical rumblings such as this, you can find me on Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr as @lth0ms0n.

The featured image at the top of this post was taken from the Instagram Tumblog. It is, sadly, not one of my own creation, but pretty damn cool all the same!


This really irks me. In fact, it just plain grinds my gears and causes me serious grief.

What am I on about?

Hash-Tagging. Something mis-used in social networking as frequently as the semi-colon in a Higher English exam. But as I’m typing this on my phone right now, please forgive me for shortening it to #tagging to save my, already RSI riddled, thumb joints.

#tagging is a feature of Twitter. It makes tweets searchable, thus allowing users of the platform to “Join the conversation.” – Twitter’s Tag-Line

Use a particular tag enough, and it begins to ‘trend.’ Thus allowing those who feel the need to join a conversation, but don’t know which to add their particular tuppence worth, can find a place to start. Such topics as the X Factor, tragic events and celebrities names are the usual culprits, and Twitter also uses your approximate location to filter out trending topics to your country or local area; keepin’ it real current!

Clicking on a persons use of a #tag in their tweet will initiate a search of their database for other 140 character long statements using the same tag. This way, people can see what others are saying about a particular event or occurrence.

This has given way to those who have decided clever games they can play, using this feature. Such tags as #stuffmymumsays or #putyourdickinamovie title have all made an appearance in my live feed over the last year and a half. Tagging can also be used to place a theme on your tweet, such as #awkward or #fml. That way, teenage boys everywhere can wince, moan, and share each others pain when they tweet about that time their Mum walked in on them during some ‘alone time.’

This, and this alone, is the purpose of #tagging. Nothing else.

Insert condescending Crabbies Bint…

A recent phenomena has developed however. It is a travesty, and a stop simply must be put to it.

Yes, you wont believe it, people are #tagging on…Facebook.

I feel your pain, Mark…

See his face? Let the poor guy catch a break; he’s had enough stress this year watching his share price plummet the day Facebook went public!

Why do people do this? I know; complete and utter technological ignorance. I face it daily, and that’s just with my Father trying to print his boarding passes the night before he leaves for West Africa. Every trip. Every evening I’m called to deal with something I’ve explained countless times before, only to find myself in exactly the same situation.

It’s not cool; it’s entirely pointless, and frankly it makes you look like a giant douche. We must unite against those in an attempt to end this, and return #tagging to the purpose for which it was intended, and to be enjoyed. What’s next? Are we to start a photo sharing platform to do nothing but take photo’s of ourselves with the #tag ‘#pretty’?

Oh wait, I forget, we already have something for that…

Without a shadow of a doubt, the most unintentionally SELF INDULGENT social network, on the planet

I’m in too fervent a rage to sign this with my normal stance. However, please reply with your thoughts!