Pride March on my Phone

The recent weather having turned my brain to tapioca, I hadn't bothered to check the battery on my camera before getting to the March.  Hadn't touched it in days, and I still regularly forget that not using a battery these days doesn't mean it's just sitting there, waiting for you.  Just keep banging those rocks together, Patrick. 

I hadn't checked the battery on my fancypants new phone either, it was just dumb luck that it was still half-way juiced up.  So this meant I finally took the plunge, not merely taking photos with it, but actually uploading them as well.  Having done that, drunk with power and possibility, it wasn't until I sent them to various and sundry locales that I realized at least half of them have my finger prominently displayed in one corner.  Digital photography sure makes things nice and crisp though, doesn't it?  I mean, remember back in the day when you got your finger in the frame, and it would be this blurry, vaguely translucent pink blob and it took a little while to figure out what the hell it was?  No?  Is that just me? 

So the neanderthal still has some larnin' to do.  But here are a couple of images that didn't turn out too badly.  The other realization I had when looking at my photos was how many cool people I spent the march chatting with, without ever getting around to learning their names.  Again, I blame the heat and tapioca brain.  With any luck, I'll have another chance to introduce myself before next June.

Thanks to Tony and the Baad Lamb for organizing the group (and apologies to anyone I'm failing to thank out of ignorance.  Did I mention the tapioca?)