We had a kind of extended family gathering this evening. My Dad’s cousin Paul put together this huge scroll showing the family tree heading back several generations and at least two hundred years (very few of whom ever bothered to leave the Ashton-under-Lyne and Oldham area it seems). This young chap — name not caught — is on it somewhere. Good evening, though I had to leave early, as I’m flying to Russia early in the morning.
No real chance for much more than a domestic scene today. The notable thing about this one was that as the clocks went forward last night, it was still light at 7.30 this evening. The world turns…
I did virtually nothing today. The pic encapsulates my indolence (those are my feet on lower left) and Clare’s industry, as she packs for her night away performing. Packing in this instance is a matter of pressure and counter-pressure.
As seen in the National Media Museum, Bradford, today, A concave mirror and some easy-enough positioning for the cameraman. I like the playing-card effect on this one. Technically it is also a self-portrait.
A bit blurred, I know, but I like it anyway, and seeing as Casper’s christening was the main event of the day, I should pick a shot directly related to it. He is the son of my cousin David, pictured here holding him, and his wife Emily (to right). Well done to them all, and a nice day was had.
I can never remember though, does this make Casper my second cousin? Or first cousin once removed? I pass.
Gosh, I made it into Manchester. But because this was a potentially traumatic experience, the wife came with me, and we didn’t stay for all that long.
It’s been a strange week, but it ended as many do, and certainly resembled the start of most of those weekends that come just after pay day — that is, we ate out. Here’s to the weekend.
Not that I typically do this retail therapy crap. But sometimes, needs must. Joe tries to make out he’s taking an interest.
Clare awaits the emergence of our son, which like all things he has done his whole life, will happen in its own sweet time. One way or another, two weeks off for the lot of us.
Noted local burlesque performer Liberty Belle here prepares to run through her balloon act in the rehearsal studio over the road. OK, so it’s a blonde in her underwear, but I’m still claiming it’s art. Or life. Or whatever.
Being 42 