The Iveagh Gardens Picnic of I Hope My Chicken Salad Doesn’t Kill You

in ireland

Emily, Karen, Petra, Will, Gary, Sharon, and Eadaoin

There are photographers, there are photographers, and there are photographers. It is known. At any gathering you will meet:

The gear enthusiasts and braggarts. “My Cannonikon X-0 Black Hole has 300% less vignette than the next best doodad on the market!”
The technique snobs and dabblers. “Swans should only be captured in a way that preserves their sensual eroticism!”
The newbies and grizzled commercial professionals. “Please sign this release so I can reproduce your likeness as captured at this photowalk.”
The artistes who point their clicky black box at things. You need to think about form, shape, and texture!”

Sat somewhere between one or another extreme you will find the typical attendee.Take me: I’ve bragged about gear. I’ve snobbed over infrared. I’ve handled commercial shoots. I have put out awful amateur shots.

The point is, a small group of regular goers accreted on We migrated to Twitter after the community soured, and here we endure. There are gatherings-picnics or photowalks-at least once a year. We all fall into the middle of the spectrum, insofar as we don’t brag (much) about gear, or hold forth (for too long) about technique. I mean-collectively we are so casual that half the time we don’t bring a camera to photowalks. And if we do, we photograph each other. I don’t own a digital camera outside of my phone.

In a nutshell, that was today’s picnic at Dublin’s Iveagh Gardens. We turned up and had a summer picnic, then retired to the bar and hung out for a while before went our ways. We took maybe ten photographs. And it was a perfect day, with blue skies and green grass.

Eadaoin organized the picnic. I somehow stole credit for the inspiration. Aafke encouraged the event, but was unable to come as she is ill (you are missed!). Petra, Will, Sinead and Eric, Sharon and Gary, Emily, Karen, and Philip all turned up at some stage. Even Alanna came by for a while after the pride parade.

I made Accidental Fiery Chicken Salad (AFCS) that everyone tried and complimented. See, the recipe calls for paprika. I ran out of paprika, and I reasoned that chili powder and paprika are both red and powders, so what harm? I am not a clever man. I almost blinded myself when I cooked it on Friday night, but everyone agreed the result was amazing.

Eadaoin baked cookies that-and I swear this by Zeus, father of man and god alike-had crack cocaine in them. I cannot think of any other reason that they would be so delicious. Karen and Emily brought salad and drinks, Petra made awesome tuna salad, and Sharon brought cheer and bear hugs.

And that’s it, really. Consensus: Good crowd, good food, good buzz, and a good day. We’ll do this again, be that in Galway or Dublin or somewhere in between, because it’s great to sit down and chill out with friends.

March 20

in me

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