Peter has given me a beanbag. It's something to rest my camera on when I can't be bothered to carry a tripod (which is most of the time). It will come in very handy for balancing the little Canon on when I'm crouched behind a church pew snapping a bit of ecclesiastical woodwork or groping after a Bryentonesque reflection shot off a car bonnet*.
The bag smells of lavender which is supposed to be very restful - insomniacs use it in pillows, I believe. I like the thought that my camera will feel rested and unstressed as it snuggles into the bag's invitingly scented embrace. I don’t suppose it will do much for my stress though - some of the shots I attempt play hell with my knees. It's a long way down there when you're six foot three (that's one point nine metres to the imperially challenged). Perhaps I should get some liniment-impregnated trousers**.
I could show you a picture of the beanbag which is blue and doesn’t appear to contain any beans but that would be far too tedious for words. So I won’t.
That’s all, folks, enjoy your day.
* Hood
** Pants
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