urban daisy

He really had the best vantage point for shooting the service, but I couldn’t begrudge him that, when the image he created was a just compensation.

I love ANZAC day.  Our family always attends the dawn service and the parade.  This year I thought I would try my hand at recording some of my favourite images as opposed to my usual habit of crying like a goose when the old diggers go past.

The parade is normally well supported, so we decided to get there early so I could choose a vantage point to shoot from.  The confirmation that I had chosen the best spot came in the form of a rude little fat photojournalist. (I’m only just holding back from also calling him greasy, sneaky and underhanded, not to mention ungentlemanly.) He set up immediately in front of me, close enough that I could, had I had my wits about me,  were I not such a nice lady, have smacked him in the head as he deserved.  After forty minutes of standing in the sun with four children  (you need to have four children, and one of them a toddler who’s been awake pre-dawn, to understand how that ups the ante) I was a little indignant at his audacity.

My husband decided to champion me by graciously pointing out that we had been waiting a long time there, and could we not share the spot?  Apparently not.  It seems if you get paid to take photographs, you can be as rude as you like.  He replied that he wasn’t going to be there long. (Hello!  Nor was anyone else – the best of the parade passes by in the first five minutes!)

During the finale of the service that followed the parade, a similar incident occured.  The pipers were piping, I had just found a place to stand, lined up a shot, and click!  I had a blurred image of the back of the girl who climbed on the chair in front of me to get the same shot.  The pipers were finished, and I walked away wondering what sort of people take up photography for a living?  Retired pirates?

Learning about photography is fun: recording things that mean something to me or will inspire, inform or amuse others is a wonderful occupation.  While I would fain improve my skills and learn how to best capture the moment, the ruthless greed I saw yesterday was just plain scary!

The driver was a perfect foil for the fellow in the back.  Can’t you just imagine his passenger in a wingback chesterfield beside an open fireplace, with a glass of port or a pipe?  I don’t know what it was about him that appealed to me so, but I could have taken a lot of photos of that man.

Australia remembers her fallen.

The flags are lowered to half mast in rememberence of those who gave their lives for their country.