Tomdinning
New member
Retirement is killing me.
It'd be great if I were left alone to my own deviancies. Unfortunately Christine, my adorable and adoring wife, decided She would also retire and keep me company on my lonely days alone.
Seriously?
My doctor saw a decline in my mental health. "Get some friends. Get a hobby. Get out of the house", he tells me.
Not something I can easily do on my own. I don't drive any more and with COVID hanging over my head like a circling condor.
After searching through the Life After 75 self help program, recommending a cruise to Thailand, ballroom dancing and Bingo as possible options to relieve me of my depression, I decided to clean out my wardrobe.
Buried beneath odd socks, a paisley shirt and some denim I assume I once wore before the silverfish had set up home, I found my old camera bag. The contents were a bit dusty and the batteries a flat as a lizard drinking but I managed to kick start most of what I could identify as once a fine collection of digital gear, purchased during a previous mid-life crisis.
Now, I wouldn't call myself a photographer. I don't really call myself much these days. A great grandfather to many does rank highly. Being male doesn't count for much these days. I've got some education for what its worth. And from what I remember, I did enjoy taking the odd photo, although most who saw them considered them 'interesting'; and you know what that means.
So, here I am, raring to go. I've found a few old files on the Mac that will get me started here and as soon as I can figure out a way of escaping the cell block I'll take some new ones.
I'm here for the conversation at most. I have been known to have an opinion on most things and will talk the bark off a gum tree given half the chance.
I also tend to be a bit rough around the edges with my wording, but I mean well.
Glad to be here.
It'd be great if I were left alone to my own deviancies. Unfortunately Christine, my adorable and adoring wife, decided She would also retire and keep me company on my lonely days alone.
Seriously?
My doctor saw a decline in my mental health. "Get some friends. Get a hobby. Get out of the house", he tells me.
Not something I can easily do on my own. I don't drive any more and with COVID hanging over my head like a circling condor.
After searching through the Life After 75 self help program, recommending a cruise to Thailand, ballroom dancing and Bingo as possible options to relieve me of my depression, I decided to clean out my wardrobe.
Buried beneath odd socks, a paisley shirt and some denim I assume I once wore before the silverfish had set up home, I found my old camera bag. The contents were a bit dusty and the batteries a flat as a lizard drinking but I managed to kick start most of what I could identify as once a fine collection of digital gear, purchased during a previous mid-life crisis.
Now, I wouldn't call myself a photographer. I don't really call myself much these days. A great grandfather to many does rank highly. Being male doesn't count for much these days. I've got some education for what its worth. And from what I remember, I did enjoy taking the odd photo, although most who saw them considered them 'interesting'; and you know what that means.
So, here I am, raring to go. I've found a few old files on the Mac that will get me started here and as soon as I can figure out a way of escaping the cell block I'll take some new ones.
I'm here for the conversation at most. I have been known to have an opinion on most things and will talk the bark off a gum tree given half the chance.
I also tend to be a bit rough around the edges with my wording, but I mean well.
Glad to be here.