Tag Archives: self-portrait

Essential supplies

Monday 11th January 2021, 9.20am (day 3,427)

Eye drops, 11/1/21

Less than an hour into the working week and I’m already reaching for these, which is not a good sign. A side effect of screen imprisonment — I doubt I’m not the only one suffering.

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Selfie outside Shelter

Thursday 7th January 2021, 4.15pm (day 3,423)

Selfie outside Shelter, 7/1/21

Will the last business standing please turn off the economy? Thanks…

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Self-portrait as Zoombie

Thursday 17th December 2020, 1.00pm (day 3,402)

Zoom portrait, 17/12/20

Another day with little to record except my further Zoombification, along with much of the rest of the planet. It’s nearly Christmas, which of course will lead to radical change in the current shape of life. But at least I won’t have any Zoom meetings for two weeks.

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Me and my shadow (or, selfie with ponytail)

Monday 2nd November 2020, 2.45pm (day 3,357)

Me and ponytail shadow, 2/11/20

Working at home today … but then again, aren’t we all. The ‘lockdown hair’ continues to grow.

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Watershed

Monday 20th July 2020, 2.15pm (day 3,252)

Watershed, 20/7/20

I went on a walk today along the Rochdale Canal from Littleborough to Walsden. Along that route one passes across the main watershed of northern England, which is marked by this sculpture, and poetry that you may enjoy (although the third and fourth lines are illegible on this reproduction — my apologies).  If I were to have passed water at this spot, random chance would have led to it either bouncing to the left, and thus flowing into the Irish Sea at via the rivers Roch, Irwell and Mersey.  Or, to the right — to flow into the North Sea, via the Calder, Aire and Humber.  A very real line — as the poem says, a “liquid equinox” — but not a visible one, not without this memorial.  Nice touch.

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Self-portrait number 42 (or, Man In Need Of Haircut)

Monday 11th May 2020, 7.10pm (day 3,182)

Selfie 42, 11/5/20

Under conditions of day-to-day repetition it’s nice to have reasons to select shots. This mirror selfie makes it because I realised it has become the 42nd self-portrait to feature on here — and the number 42 has been highlighted whenever and wherever it appears. So you can now see that I am in sore need of a haircut, like many other people. There are worse consequences of the present farce, of course.

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The last class of the year

Friday 1st May 2020, 9.25am (day 3,172)

Online teaching space, 1/5/20

It was my last scheduled teaching of the semester today. Normally we would have concluded this significant moment in the academic year by some kind of group photo, as on 4th May 2018, and said our goodbyes, at least amongst those I will not be supervising over the summer. There can be none of that this year. I sit in a room and talk to a laptop for an hour and twenty minutes and take questions here and there and that’s it. I do plenty of distance teaching anyway, so it’s not that I’m pissed off about this as such — but I miss people, and if you claim not to, then I worry for your sanity.

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Selfie in mirror corner

Tuesday 7th January 2020, 9.30am (day 3,057)

Mirror corner selfie, 7/1/20

A day on which I got plenty of work done, but which was of such profound photographic dullness that I was grateful for what opportunities arose. The only time I left the house was for my bi-annual teeth scrape at the dentists’, so here’s a pseudo-selfie in the waiting room. One of the few of my 3,000+ shots to come with its own frame, anyway.

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Hall of mirrors

Sunday 6th October 2019, 12.20pm (day 2,964)

Hall of mirrors, 6/10/19

It’s not quite the finale of Enter the Dragon but I still like this one. However, how come Joe gets on three times, one neatly in each third — and I’m only on once? Perhaps I am only part vampire. It would explain certain things.

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Coming home

Monday 19th August 2019, 10.10pm (day 2,916)

Selfie, bus station, 19/8/19

In all the eight years (minus a week) that I have been doing this blog there have been various selfies and shots of Joe — but we’ve never been captured together. Until tonight. Other than the slightly grubby glass in which we’re being reflected, I quite like this shot. To the right, the ferals gather at one end of Halifax bus station, being told off by some security guard who calls one of them a ‘scrote’ every few seconds. Meanwhile I ponder the fact that I’ve entered the last week of my 40s.

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