z mog
i'm thinking about replacing the perou-moblle proper.
when they make a h2o powered unimog, i'm there.
took z to the farm dispersal sale in headcorn with a view to shoot some portraits of olde english farmers.
after yesterday's unmitigated success, having z as my assistant was an unmitigated disaster.
mrs.perou advised me not to take him, but i thought he was old enough to not be a burden.
but z has the attention span of a goldfish.
he was much more interested in the light aircraft taking off and landing in the field next door.
abandoned all hope, leaving headcorn depressed and portrait free, feeling like a failure.
decided to try and be a better father than photographer and stopped at a medieval fayre on the way home that z was saying 'pleeeeeeasssse' about.
strange folke fancy-dressed up in ancient clobber, reenacting olde times.
found the cider tent (for me) and got us both some hog roast.
z wanted to have his face painted like an army man.
think the face painter was all about animals though: boy looks like a lizard with whiskers: strangest camo i ever did see.
he was happy though.
bought him a bow with arrows.
10 minutes later he had just one arrow left: the others gone forever, somewhere.
despite exhaustive searching in the long grass and bushes
RTF
cut a hedge.
felt too knackered to continue but z goaded me on 'why don't you do this one?' then 'why don't you do that one?'
in the end i'd cut all the hedges at the farm.
bought a BBQ at B&Q.
which mrs.perou does not like the look of, of course.
i'm function over form baby.
strangely, for a photographer.
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