Further to my last I have to ask … is it possible to have a
I haven’t the foggiest. “Black,” The Sage used to mumble at me when he was in his cups (normal state for him—the ol’ bugger hasn’t been around for ages, I miss the boozy old sod) “is the total absence of colour. Any (hic!) colour at all.”
For a deceased seventeenth century pirate he was quite a fount of trivia, I was impressed. So am I allowed a vibrant black, or in this sense does vibrant apply only to colour?
Anyway … here’s yer vibrant black—
—modified by reflections from the wetness upon the ol’ compost-bin lid after a wee squall. If we’re getting technical here, the vibrancy is almost completely dissipated by the reflections—but we know it’s there …
the rich redness of an early morning rose, which by any other name on a cool foggy morning would still make one dread the coming winter?
AND NOW, YOU LUCKY
person (if you’ve got this far) here be a symphony in a mix of our red and the previously discussed black, and some complementary green to offset—
“Mr Argus … Sir?”
“Yes, little Ollivia?”
“Sir, you’re babbling again.”
. “… … … … … … … … thank you, Cutie … … I think … … …”
Pest … !
—anyway, here ’tis:
AND NOW I AWAIT
with bated breath for some WPC genius to come up with ‘night’ as a Challenge. Boom boom (guess who has finally figured out an Argus-proof way of getting night shots?).
Those good people at Olympus make ground-breaking superb cameras but the consensus on the web seems to that their manuals are bloody awful. So in the case of old dogs it’s very much trial and error—with these clumsy great paws and a slowing mind it’s not easy … if any Olympian writer showed up here I’d bite the bugger. Vibrantly.