Becoming a pro photographer

Today I had my first assignment as a photographer. That's right, I've turned pro. If being paid with a glass of ginger and some potatoes constitutes being a pro, that is.

Not just potatoes, though. Potatoes with herbs and cheese on them. That's right, I roll like a proper player.

Unfortunately, because I brought an unsuitable lens and an almost completely dead battery, I had to rush back to Tin Hau in a taxi to pick up spare battery and lens, and then catch another taxi back. So I guess I've paid about twenty dollars for my first assignment.

Hang on - aren't you meant to be making money doing this?

Having learned about the necessity of spare batteries and not bringing along memory cards that are half full of gratuitous shots of jars of Marmite, I then discovered my flashgun and my camera weren't talking to one another: had they got in an argument while I'd been moving apartment? Who knows? The upshot of this was that I had to shoot most of it either with available light, or just the flash on the body of my SLR, which is a bit harsh.

Still, we got a reasonable number of good shots, although I think the ones I'm happiest with are when the shoot was over and everyone was getting drunk and playing guitars, rather than posing or trying to choreograph the perfect scissor kick. But then I'm more comfortable shooting things in a more naturalistic way, and that's something my trusty 50mm lens is wonderful at.

That, or I'm off my face on a potent combination of ginger beer and herbal potatoes, and I'll wake tomorrow to find 571 blurry pictures of my shoes. That's the mystery of life!