A rather splendid Christmas dinner at my in-laws began the Christmas Waist Expansion in earnest.  Over the next few days, much beer was consumed and the entire second season of Saxondale was viewed on a dark, tea and chocolate-filled afternoon.  In a Caligula-like moment of decadence I scoffed a big bowl of tiramisù while lying in bed.  Possibly not my proudest moment.

I also got to chat with some friends that I don’t see often and, from one of those splendid fellows, I acquired this lovely little thing:

Isn’t it cool?  It’s a Halina 35X.  Despite that it looks quite snazzy, it’s actually a Hong Kong cheapie from the late 50′s and is probably worth less than the cost of processing the roll of 35mm film that I’ll be putting in.

Before any shooting or processing can occur, however, it needs some TLC.  The shutter seems to work just fine, as does the winding mechanism.  The inside could use a damn good cleaning (to avoid scratching up the film) and ditto for the lens.  The big problem, though, is that the lens barrels are really stiff.  This probably means I’ll need to take it apart and lube it up (no Carry On jokes, please).

Why on earth would I want to dismantle and reassemble a forty or fifty year old camera in order to shoot actual film when I have a perfectly good digital SLR?  If you have to ask, you’ll never know.  Look at it.  It may be cheapie and it may need a lot of work and I will have to pay to process any images I take but, look at it.  It’s a thing of beauty.

And I’m a geek.

1. My spleen has secreted excess humour – a black bile if you will – that has brought on a bout of melancholia.
2. I’m getting fed up with the Christmas experience of staying at my folks.

This leaves me with two possible courses of action:

1. It’s quite probable that a course of leeches and blood-letting will clear up the issue. Failing that, drilling a hole in my skull should allow a means of egress for any demons therein.
2. I could just go hide away from all familial interaction and read this splendid book that Santa brought.

That being the case however, it seems traditional to offer some sort of Yuletide greeting to people – even weird, internet strangers who, more than likely, are reading this naked, smeared in goose-fat while performing strange, unsavoury acts with Toblerones and turkey-basters.

So then, filthy internet-people, have yourselves a merry Christmas, Hanukkah, winterval, fourth-day-after-solistice, holly-flagellation-day or whatever you happen to celebrate.

Ho ho ho and whatnot.  I’m off to get drunk and shout at my family.

Tomorrow is the only day when it’s acceptable to make the ‘leg or breast’ joke.  It’s the only day when it’s ok to work the word ‘goose’ into conversations more often than the average Carry-On film.  Tomorrow is the only day of the year when you might get away with saying ‘you’re an old slut on junk’ to your wife – as long as you sing it a bit.

Insane, hyper-child is abed and, I think, settled.  Cookie, milk and carrot are on the hearth.  Beer is in the fridge.  All is right with the world.  All that remains is for me to wish you all a very happy Cliffmas.

Ho ho ho, everyone.  All the best.