At least that's the cliche. I am about to attempt a proof. I am no photographer. When I was writing news for the local paper, the editor always sent a camera person with me. The photos I brought back myself were out of focus or indecipherable - were those someone's feet and if so, whose? Was that a photo of someone's hair? Why on earth was there a picture of a yawning black chasm amid pictures of a parade?
A few years ago my son gave me a small point-and-shoot digital camera. I fell in love with taking pictures because the software that accompanied the camera allowed me to crop or even better, delete any photo unworthy of publication. Not that my skills improved, you understand, but the end results could be displayed without the embarrassment I'd suffered previously.
Now into my hands has come a new camera - an Olympus FE, a lovely sleek silver thing that has more focus than I ever dreamed, a zoom lens that operates all on its own despite my ineptness and produces photos like this:
I am off to read the manual with its pages of buttons and settings and picture taking tips. Then I'll be back.