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.
I was going to go out of Toronto for the day but last night I managed to slip on a wet floor and bash my head against something that was harder than it: the evidence is not graphic on this photo (I’ll spare you the gore) but it was evident enough. I will live but there was no way I felt like spending two hours each way on a bus. Instead I hung around and recuperated. So there will be no ex-Toronto moments on this trip: 12 days straight through, in which I won’t even have got on a vehicle of any kind, unless elevators count.
Well, we do still have a social life now and again. You wouldn’t necessarily perceive this from reading the blog, though: this is the latest shot in a given day since late November (and it’s still not all that late, though the evening did continue past this point).
From a fake old picture to some real ones. These were taken in around 1945 when my Granddad, Harold Whitworth — my father’s father — was serving in Egypt towards the end of World War 2. He’s the chap with the dapper moustache sat down next to the guy in the turban; and the one on the left of the other shot. (Mildly dubious it might be to dress as a native stereotype, but I have photos of myself doing much the same in Fiji.) Anyway, these are the kinds of family references that now seem obligatory when visiting my parents for the annual-Xmas get-together — last year it was the family tree; in 2023, the box of very old photos.
I don’t honestly remember Granddad ever saying much about his experiences in the war; he was certainly not one of those ex-soldiers who go on about it to anyone who will listen. In these pictures it all looks like an extended holiday, but I’m sure it wasn’t.
The woman in question being Clare, of course. We both adopted this position all day in fact. I liked her little ‘light cave’, and should point out the dubious fluffy mascot to lower right.
A Friday night out, in the kind of lighting which makes taking photos with my point-and-click gear an activity dependent mostly on luck. Great action shots of people dancing don’t really emerge. But this photo of Clare getting the first beers of the evening is at least notable for this being the point when she overtakes Joe as the most-often featured person on here — a status that, all things considered, she will almost certainly now retain.
Being 42 