What did Nat think of it…

Well after my usual periods of procrastination, I have finally begun the new blog I said I would way back here in November. Oops.

I’m actually having a lot of fun writing these posts, so just like with the new toy you get for Christmas, I won’t be surprised if I neglect The Bum Diaries a tiny bit until the shine wears off this new one.

Anyway, if you’re stuck for something to watch, check out “What Did Nat Think of It” and maybe I can be of assistance.


Every Day is Cat Day, Just Some Days More than Others

Have you noticed how whenever there’s a significant holiday (Xmas, New Year etc) the number of cat-related posts on social media triples? I mean, normally I get one cat joke a day, but around special event days there’s suddenly, like, three. See, that’d be triple.

But what’s with cat posts? Where did they all begin? What does it all mean? Why does nobody on the planet seem to hate them? More curiously, who decided that they must always have that same white, bold font on them and why does the world comply?

So I investigated. One guy tried his hand at a psychological explanation. Read it here if you want, but it covers Freud, Jung, evolution, Greek and Egyptian mythology, female independence, human symbolism… and then I got bored and stopped reading so I have no idea what else.

C’mon mate, it doesn’t take intellectual analysis for this one. It’s easy. Cats are cute. Full stop. Plus, ok sure, his first sentence was all he really needed to write. He said, if you want to be an internet phenomenon, if you want to be re-posted and have more hits than you ever felt possible, say it with a cat.

Really, it’s that simple? A phenomenon you say?

Well… err… does it count if it’s not your own work? Maybe? Well, let’s try this out. Here’s my latest fave cat post then.


And my all time fave videos – I did try to embed these, but I’m not tech savvy enough for that yet it seems. I have however got my head around a hyperlink. Continue reading

Trying to Teach a (sick) Old Dog New Tricks

I have man flu. Apparently I’m making enough grunts and groans every time I move even so much as half an inch that the world is sick of me (and apparently I’ve reverted to imperial measurements since moving to the UK). By “the world” I mean the girl who is stuck at home with me. Oh and the cats. Well, maybe the guy at the corner shop I go to each morning for a Freddo Frog too.

But in my opinion I’ve been unjustly labeled. My symptoms include a cough that sounds something like I’m ejecting a demon spirit, ears that ache like they did when I was pulling some G forces on the Mission Space ride at Disneyworld and of course a nose which alternates between waterfall and dam depending on my angle of recline-age. I also have that damn tickle you get in your throat that makes you choke and cry tears of pathetic-ness because it invariably hits when you’re in public and making it worse by fruitlessly trying to stop it. Plus a strange addition last night was an over production of saliva that made my pillow look like a rabid dog had laid down to rest on it.

So boo hoo for sicky sicky bum bum me, right?

All of this is not helping the fact that this week I’m attending an evening photography course. Normally my brain only functions for a few hours a day, usually around 9am till lunch, 1pm-ish if I’ve had a good sleep. After that it’s a waste of time ever trying to have an intelligent conversation with me. So with my course being 6.30pm till 9pm (normally a prefect length for my attention span) each night, added to the fact that my head is already full of mucus, there’s not much room for new information.

The course is a beginners one, covering the absolute basics, but that still involves wrapping my head around things like f-stops (the most infuriatingly backwards system that’s ever existed – something to do with Pi he said???), apertures, shutter speeds, angles of view, pinhole cameras, sensors, focal length, exposure triangles. Oi vey! I’ve been getting along fine just winging it till now. Maybe I should have factored in my age and number of depleted brain cells before I made the crazy decision to quit my job and start a photography business.

I’m exaggerating slightly, but it is curious to realise that the brain is just not what it used to be. I’m sure it will all slot into the correct files in my head eventually, I’ll just need it explained about ten times more than a youngun. Or someone my age who didn’t obliterate their capacity to learn in their 20’s through copious amounts of Jack Daniels. And vodka. And Long Island Iced Teas. And beer.  Continue reading