Earlier today, sitting my desk minding my own business, I heard a rustle as something dropped on the doormat. It was a missive from UPS to tell me they’d left a parcel with a neighbour. Why they couldn’t knock on my door is a mystery, one of the many mysteries of the world of couriering.
I called on my neighbours within seconds but they weren’t at home. However, through the window at the side of their front door, I could see a label with “Wetzlar” writ large.
Yet another mystery to solve. What could the factory possibly be sending to humble old Macfilos? During the three
Mopping my fevered brow, I rushed to the door later as the kind neighbour brought the parcel round. The package was disappointingly flat, which hadn’t been obvious through the window, and clearly couldn’t contain a camera or a lens. More like a book, I thought.
Then I remembered that Lars Netopil, who happens to live in Wetzlar, had promised to send me a copy of the catalogue for the Wetzlar Camera Auction which takes place on October 5. However, despite disappointment in not joining Jono among the select band of beta testers, I do find this catalogue fascinating, with 218 pages crammed with photographic exotica.
If you plan to bid, it’s best done from this large and attractive book. There’s still time to order it if you visit the auction website. You can find full details here.
I don’t buy books these days unless they are of the coffee table genre, in which I would class the Wetzlar auction tome. And eagle-eyed readers will notice another bit of Leica coffee-table fodder underneath the auction catalogue. Yes, it’s the new book from Knut Kühn-Leitz — Ernst Leitz III: The Leica is always in view (Die Leica stets