Yesterday, I made the journey to the Natural History Museum for the first time in about a quarter of a century. Having two boys who like dinosaurs makes you do that sort of thing. The last time I went, which I don’t remember too well, I was a Cub scout staying at Baden-Powell House. This time our path from South Kensington tube was blocked by a regiment of cubs. And then we had to queue. And queue some more.
Still, such slowness meant I could observe: the essential politeness of queues even when some (deleted) accidentally jumps it, the different languages being spoken … and being a photographically minded sort of fellow what struck me was how many chaps like me there were: definitely not middle-aged (oh no) but with kids and wife, ever-so-slightly fraught expression and, importantly, an entry to enthusiast level DSLR slung over the shoulder. And being even geekier than the average I can confirm a ratio of 4:3:2 Nikon:Canon:other.
Obviously this was in amongst the plethora of point and shoots, cameraphones and assorted other ways of taking pics that were being carried – there’s something about skeletons, models, stuffed animals and animatronic dinosaurs that brings out the snapper in everyone. Half the time you wonder what they’re actually hoping to get – especially if their entry to enthusiast level DSLR is set to manual and has a flash bouncing off the nearest wall – but each to their own. My only keepers came via a blurry T-rex (here) and this one of an elephant.