Here is a story from Peter H about the camera we gave him some months back:
So here’s how an unfortunate combination of overthinking, bad luck and heartbreak led to the disappearance of the camera you entrusted to me.
When I first got the camera I was determined to put it somewhere really clever and funny, so you’d write about it on the blog and I’d look really clever and funny. A boat party wasn’t good enough. A trip to Berlin wasn’t good enough. A ride on the London Eye certainly wasn’t good enough. And whilst I deliberated the camera sat in its bag with its ‘PICK ME UP’ postcard on my kitchen table. For weeks. And then, without warning, it went missing.
Now this was potentially rather embarrassing. Suddenly I wouldn’t look clever and funny, I’d look like an idiot who lost his camera. So rather than dealing with the issue, for four consecutive weekends I spent an hour vaguely poking about the house, rechecking all my shelves and under the sofa and scratching my head. On the fourth weekend of doing this my housemate found me mid-scratch and asked me what I was doing. ‘I’ve lost a disposable camera in a plastic bag’. ‘Oh I’ve got it’ he said. ‘It told me to pick it up, so I did. And then took some photos with it, of my feet’.
So it was back in my possession and I now knew I had to get rid of it fast. As luck had it I had just got back together with my exgirlfriend who was about to go on holiday to Galicia for a week. Seizing my chance (not clever or funny but at least foreign) and buoyed by refound love I gave her the camera and asked her to drop it somewhere good whilst abroad. She dutifully left for Spain, and then, bingo, as soon as she landed back on home shores, we promptly split up again. Since I was rather preoccuppied with my heart being smashed into thousands of pieces I failed to enquire about the camera and I haven’t spoken to her since. So I have no idea if she dropped the camera in Galicia or whether it came back in her bag to her bedroom on the Holloway Road, two short agonising miles from my house. Wherever it is, just promise me that if you get a camera full of pictures of my exgirlfriend in union with a Spanish coastguard you won’t tell me. Thanks. Sorry. Are you able to put a ‘probably’ tag somewhere over Galicia?