All this talk of lost cameras reminds me of my lost camera. It's also a story without any particular ending.
Back in 2000, I lost a camera.
Ah well, not much of a story really is it? I went down to London to see some friends before Christmas, and we met up in a pub. Fans of the Beast of Enfield (DC to its friends) will be pleased to hear that this was the Stag. I took the camera along to snap a few pictures (although I don't think I did in the end), and when I came to leave, I couldn't find it anywhere, so I must have lost it.
Yes, it's still a rubbish story.
But, I sometimes wonder if someone found the camera and, either in an attempt to identify the owner, or just out of curiousity, they got the pictures developed. I like to imagine them looking through the prints to see who was in them: "Hmm... drunk students... more drunk students... Tony Blair? Bill Clinton? Wha...?"
You see, I'd managed to get a few snaps of the great TB and (possibly) BC when they came to visit my university for an afternoon. So it's something of a shame that I never got to see these pictures, but I console myself with the notion that maybe, just maybe, someone who found my camera is now utterly baffled at what the Prime Minister was doing on the same roll of film as a bunch of stupid drunk students.