The Build up to Next Season.

Despair…

Well, it’s difficult to know what to say.

At the moment, I am really struggling to find it in myself to justify even thinking about parting with, in excess of 600 sheets, to buy a couple of season tickets for next year. The last couple of seasons, I have talked myself into, or been persuaded by the latest news, to actually go and pay for them at early bird prices, only to be totally disappointed by, either some new crappy league format, or some new staff format.

The past few seasons have cost me a fortune for an extremely mediocre product, none of which have lived up to anywhere near, the over hype announcements and news releases.

It has now got to the stage, where, I am already thinking of spending the season ticket money. I have already seen a couple of camera bodies that would replace my aging Olympus E3 machine, and at the moment, Tony Smith, the new camera body is so far in front, you would be struggling to see it, even with a top of the range high power zoom fitted. The E5 does look like a good way of spending the ST money, and at least I know perfectly how much enjoyment I would get from it.

I am now at the stage, where I don’t care one iota what anyone else thinks, but me spending over 600 readies last April was a total waste of money, and as such, I have no intention of doing so again. Nothing this season has given me the slightest inkling that I did the right thing. It has been full of extremes.

1.       Extreme apathy from team/coach as to what is considered a hard hitting, exciting team (as promised at last years fan forum)

2.       Extreme boredom at the repetitive nature of the league set up, and the conference system.

3.       Extreme frustration at seeing so many of the Scottish (and Hull) conference teams being shunted to Ice Sheffield, a venue I am not keen on and cannot really afford to pay the extra cost on top of the ST price.

4.       Extreme anger at being told over and over that myself and many like me have no knowledge of anything to do with the game, by someone who should have been left out of the equation years ago.

5.       Extreme despair, after having spent all this money, and then getting abusive reports and notices on various social media and in programmes from people on the staff, who really should learn how to treat your paying customers.

6.       Extreme annoyance at having to waste many Sundays, due to having to piss about and get fed early enough to be able to go to the numerous afternoon games and not get stuck in the Meadowdump traffic, because of the crappy face-off times and overwhelming number of Sunday games.

Can you perhaps tell, I am extremely pissed off with everything Steelers/EIHL at the moment. I have no enthusiasm for any upcoming game. I’ve seen the teams too many times. I have no enthusiasm for any announcement, because most of them are hollow and full of deceit. I have no enthusiasm for pretty much anything that happens on the ice, as it appears that few in the team have any either. And as for the noise, well words fail me. Sell by date is probably the one phrase which really does spring to mind.

I do not believe (at the moment) and frankly, I don’t care either.

Mart.

Timeline…

Where it all began!

Ok, so, even though I blame Nicéphore Niépce for my IKPS and my total interest in photography, I suppose some of the blame should rest squarely on the shoulders of my grand-father Ron Doo. Sometime back in the mists of time (mid 60’s), he gave me, around my 8^th birthday, his Kodak Box Brownie Six-Twenty, and a roll of black and white film. Then, once he’d shown me how to load the film, off we went for a walk round our local park. A short explanation of what did what on the camera and I was ready. This would be my first introduction to the world of photography.

The walk round the park didn’t last long, as I snapped away quite happily at anything in front of me. A tree, a man walking a dog, a woman with a pram, the bandstand, and basically anything else which just happened to catch my eye at the time. The 20 exposure roll was quickly used up and we made our way back home.

Once home, and a quick snack for lunch rapidly demolished, it was time to nip down into the cellar and into my grand-fathers home-made dark room to see what I had achieved. They were probably rubbish, and would mean nothing to anyone now, but back then, I probably thought they were fantastic. This, then, led to my grand-father turning to bribery, with him offering me extra pocket money in exchange for me doing certain jobs, such as fetching the evening newspaper, taking the empty pop bottles back to the corner shop for the 2d return, and quite possibly other jobs, too numerous to mention. Thinking back, it probably never occurred to me, that the 9 or 10d I managed to collect from these chores was nowhere near enough to buy the film that appeared every Sunday morning for me to use in my trusty Box Brownie, but it was something which I eagerly awaited each week.

Every Sunday, the new film was quickly unpacked and loaded into the camera, and off I would go. Sometimes to the park, sometimes just round our block, sometimes just into the back garden. The 20 pictures would be snapped, and then, once lunch was finished, off we would venture into the dark room. It all started off as a big adventure, but techniques were learned, albeit very basic to start with, and hints were passed on from my grand-father, who had learned from his dad at, probably, a young age similar to me at the time. From these hints, came a couple of rules that I would remember, always. He always told me, give it a purpose, give it direction and always see the background. He also said, see the picture in your mind before you hit the shutter, that way, it’ll be what you want and not what the camera wants. This still works today, regardless of what camera you use.

I enjoyed the Box Brownie. It was extremely basic, and made you think about what the end result would be, but it was a great little machine to learn from scratch with. I still have it. It still works, although getting film isn’t as easy as it used to be. It’ll never get sold, even though its worth in money is small, its worth to me is priceless.

Mart.