My Mum was 80 last month — my Dad is 80 next month. We split the difference and held a joint 80th birthday party today (hence the banner across the door), at my sister’s place. Mum and Dad do seem to still like each other after over 58 years of marriage, which, of course, is how it should be. Happy birthdays to them.
With Joe now living in Dundee we have determined that Newcastle is the halfway point between us, geographically. Hence, this weekend, built around an evening out but also (it being me) a trip to a football match and a chance to laze around in the sunshine on the grassy acres of Heaton Stannington FC (a ground which thoroughly deserves the awards it has received for its beer, by the way).
Of course, the title of this blog has non-geographical implications too, as with all parents and their children. And if you saw pictures of me when I was Joe’s age (21) — this shot, particularly, is like looking at a magical mirror that projects one back in time. That’s me, in the summer of 1991, right there. Only with bigger feet.
One of those rare ‘post-midnight’ shots for a given day: I didn’t get back from Wales until after 12 on Wednesday night, or was it Thursday morning. By the time I did, the wife had dozed off, so she didn’t particularly complain when I got off one final shot (so to speak). And no, she doesn’t have an ankle-bracelet tattoo; it’s insect repellent, I believe. Postscript: C did insist I add an observation that she gave me permission to use the shot…
The sun comes out, and with it, various bits of English skin that have not had much opportunity for solar exposure in recent months. And it shows. Clare, who has never been one for tanning much, decides to display possibly the whitest legs in Europe as we enjoy an end-of-week beer or three. They’ve some catching up to do on the arms, for sure.
Clare has flown out to Toronto to join me for a few days, and why not, it’s a fine city to explore and also to look at. The skyline seems very well balanced and the CN Tower sets it off excellently. The best view of it is from the islands just offshore in the Lake, which is why a lot of people go there on a nice day — though she made it before the weekend. I like the shape her shadow makes on this one.
It’s been a few months since I did a self-portrait, and the prospect of this one did occur to me while sat having a pre-meeting cup of tea in Tim Hortons, pondering how we can find ways to continue the collaboration that has brought me here three times now. I am here sat in more or less the same spot from which I took this shot in October 2021, and armed with the knowledge of the venue, the building in the background and Google Maps you can probably pinpoint the exact location should you wish to.
The first concealed round number of the day: today I am exactly 20,000 days old. When I first saw the Nick Cave documentary 20,000 Days on Earth (it’s very good and worth watching even if you have no idea who Nick Cave is) I naturally worked out when I would reach this milestone, and, well, it’s today. In my case 20,000 days works out at 54 years, 9 months and 3 days.
The second concealed round number is that this is the 100th blog pic to be taken in Scotland. This last week has seen the country overtake Norway in the all-time table to now stand third, behind only England and Australia. To mark this, let’s feature Joe, and behind him, Dundee — the juxtaposition of person and place being the principal reason that Scotland has kept up its healthy rate of appearance over the last three years (Dundee features on 24 of those 100 shots).
The diorama of Dundee was created by photographer Sohei Nishino, and is a remarkably good piece of work which gives a totally new perspective on the place and which one can lose oneself in: both characteristics of great art, if you ask me. And according to this article about it, it used 20,000 photos. Back to the first concealed round number we go. It must mean something.
No apologies for putting up the cheesy-grin family shot today as the day was all about Clare, who ran her first ever marathon in a time of 6 hours and 1 minute. The Edinburgh marathon started in the city, headed out along the coast, turned around and came back as far as Musselburgh. This is Longniddry, where Joe and I caught up with her at about the 20 mile mark. She looked, as you can see, fresh as a daisy, and from this point on I had absolutely no doubt that she would finish. I know what this has taken in terms of training — an immense effort! And I am very sure it won’t be her last. (Will I be taking up the challenge? No chance.)
I did want to get a photo of Joe posted from this weekend; after all we did go all the way to Scotland just to check up on him. Well, mostly. This is the first time he has appeared on here since July 23rd last year.
Another day of data inspection and introspection brings to an end a whole week of much the same kind of stuff, so ending it with a rather ghostly self-portrait seems appropriate. Yes, I’m in a pub (The Albert), though not drinking rum.
Being 42 