I bought a 2nd hand computer yesterday. It's fairly compact, but moderately heavy for its size. All black, with just an optical input. It's a few years old, and has been superseded - as technology tends to be - by more refined models with a better song and dance routine, but it should do me for a while. The GUI has more menus than Masterchef and is almost as tedious. It goes by the name Canon 30D.

I thought a full move into digital imaging was long overdue; 'long overdue' as in 'he's one of the few sentient beings on the planet who doesn't own a DSLR'. I have been using small point-and-shoot digicams for several years, and have struggled to get them to produce something approaching respectable work, but the proper photographer in me decided that enough was enough.

So, am I happy now? Well, let's see: I fundamentally dislike using menus to control settings; I dislike being totally battery-dependent; even by my standards of using large, brass-bodied cameras, this is a large weight to carry around; I can't use my old FD lenses, but I knew about that. On the credit side, proper control of exposure and depth of field is once again available to me (not to mention colour balance); the autofocus is pretty quick, and very likely accurate to boot; the ability to shoot rapid flash exposures is good (the wee Powershot needed about 10 seconds to regain its composure, so if you missed the birthday-cake-and-candles shot, tough). Beyond that, there are all sorts of widgets, frills and embellishments that I will come to know in the fullness of time, and likely ignore. For now, I shall play with the new toy, and see where it takes me.

Oh, yes: it has an ultrasonic lens cap. Honest - I can't hear it at all.

I came to reading relatively late in life. As a child, I loved browsing the family bookcase, with Newnes Family Encyclopædia, Pears Cyclopædia, The Wonderful World of Nature, and other such worthy tomes, but I don't recall reading an entire book until I borrowed Lemon Kelly and the Home Made Boy from the library when I was around 10. Thereafter, I was a sporadic and infrequent reader, and could probably count on the fingers of three hands the number of books I read in the next decade or so. My wife, on the other hand has always loved reading, becoming utterly absorbed in various lives and adventures from an early age. I slowly started the reading habit only once I was well and truly old enough to know better (probably after I had developed the habit of routine sobriety), but initially it was through picking up books that my wife was reading, and delving into them occasionally. In this way, I read a few of the Earth's Children series, beginning with Clan of the Cave Bear. However, I did not make it all the way to the end, unlike she-who-must-be-obeyed, who waited patiently for the recent release of the final book in the series, The Land of Painted Caves.

I have not read Lord of the Rings, Catcher in the Rye, The Picture of Dorian Gray, or countless other works that I really ought to. I have read Catch 22, some le Carré, a little SF, and odd thriller/espionage titles that catch my eye, usually lurking on charity shop shelves. What I have found increasingly absorbing is biography, with First Man: The Life of Neil A. Armstrong being a recent favourite (even if it was rather exhausting).

I have left a few books unfinished—some intentionally, others not—and have an increasing pile 'on the go', which I shall definitely work through in the not-too-distant future. This stack includes The God Delusion, Life: An Unauthorised Biography, and a collection of Ian Rankin's short stories, Beggars Banquet. The current bedtime favourite is A Beautiful Mind, the biography of genius mathematician John Nash, from which was produced the film of the same name. Like First Man, it is a substantial work, and equally compelling. I can't begin to understand the variety of maths that Nash and his colleagues worked on, but as a portrait of a man suffering a catastrophic loss of his mental faculties, it is a very human story that manages to bewilder, amuse, and inspire. It will probably take me at least another month of bedtimes to complete. Once that is out of the way, I shall pick up another biography, that of Keith Richards, Life. I am determined to resist the temptation to leave yet another book unfinished before starting upon it. But now, enough writing: I have a date with a wacky number-cruncher.

Our numbers have increased this week, augmented by the patter of tiny feet. Fortunately, they don't belong to us.

Just before going away for a few days, Heather went next door to procure cat-sitting services, and learned that our neighbour's daughter-in-law was desperately in need of a child-minder - hence her announcement on returning: "I've got a job!" One doesn't normally nip next door for employment opportunities, so she had to elaborate upon this unexpected statement. The outcome is that she has charge of a toddler and a baby, four days a week, for the foreseeable future. I'm happy to find that they are pleasant children, but dismayed that the three-year-old cannot properly form a gerund. What is happening to educational standards? He does ask questions though, which is encouraging, but the question is usually "why...?". For example: "Why have you turned the TV off?" "Because we're not watching it just now." "Why not?" I felt a discussion about the merits of daytime television would not prove rewarding, so left it there.

Needless to say, we will have to consider child-proofing for the first time in a dozen years (although visiting teenagers have been cause for concern in more recent times).

In more personally satisfying (and less challenging) news, I have set up my newly-retrieved telescope once more, and shall point it at a celestial sight ere long. I left it with a friend in Coffs Harbour when we left last year, as there was neither the space in the truck, nor an likelihood that I would do anything with it for some time. However, it's nice to see my old friend again, even if it is like something from a byegone age, compared to the current offerings in Sky and Telescope. With Jupiter now rising before midnight, it's time to put it to use again though, perhaps even with a camera at the sharp end. Watch this space.

The end of my holiday draws near. Haven't really been anywhere, just a 3-day trip to see old friends and family, abandoned when we relocated to Brisbane last year. Encouraged that everyone still remembers us. Moreover, nobody said "Can I have that fiver back?" Mostly, I've been pottering about and just enjoying not going to work.

I do intend to see the Cartier-Bresson exhibition at the QAG, but that will need to wait until my RDO next week; it opens on Saturday, but I'm back at work then. Then later in the week, I'll attend a private viewing at a small studio/gallery in north Bris; I'm exceedingly envious of the space there: it's set up not only for photographic printing, but has a couple of printing presses as well, all contained in a custom-built facility that makes me ache with desire. I discovered Myrtle Street Studio when a friend told me about her entry into a pinhole photography exhibition there. It's small but perfectly formed.

For now though, time to venture into the garage, there to fit shelves into a bedside cabinet, and possibly make a start on a new desktop for Heather. I've often said that power tools are a way of making an arse of things very quickly, so I shall use them with care. If I feel bold, I might even bring out the old spokeshave.

OK. So I've started a new blog. What was wrong with the old one? Apart from lack of posts, that is...? Well, nothing really, but in dabbling with a Weebly site (honest, that's what these people call themselves), I find that it has blog functionality, so why not? It might get me blogging again. No promises though.

Before I go, anyone know what the road to Hell is paved with? Just wondering.