How one of the world's first commercially available digital cameras, the Casio QV-10, came to the rescue of the press office at the 1995 International Motorcycle Show.

Every year for the past few years I have had a new iPhone. From 3 to 3S, from 4 to 4S, from 5 to 5S and then to 6 Plus. I regard it as my duty to test them out for the benefit of readers. Now, for the first time on this treadmill, I am wondering if I should take a break. The 6 Plus is so good that it could easily handle another year of use. Event the battery, which in previous phones had begun to lose its mojo after twelve months, is holding up well. 

Rathbone Place in London’s West End, just west of Tottenham Court Road and north of Oxford Street, has something of a reputation among photographers. Not only is there the upstart, Park Cameras' London store, to delight visitors, further up towards Charlotte Street, is one of the capital’s gems: Aperture. I’ve spent many a happy hour chatting to Patrick and his colleagues against the backdrop of the cabinet of used Leicas and accessories. And next door is the TAP No.36 café, rumoured to have the best coffee in London.

This morning I set out to visit the South London Camera Fair at Sidcup, Kent, with the new Leica Monochrom (Typ 246) and 50mm Apo-Summicron round my neck. An ordinary sort of Sunday, but an extraordinary combination of camera and lens. After a couple of hours immersed in old cameras I made my way along the M25 in search of old and new motors—always to be found at the Brooklands Motor Museum.

For the past few years I have always bought my phones direct from Apple, without contract, and have assumed that it is the cheapest way to smartphone ownership. I am always suspicious of the carriers’ hire-purchase deals which are seldom the most cost-efficient solution. I buy new and sell after a year or two and the difference is my ownership cost. But what if I forget all about ownership and regard the phone as a rentable commodity?