This is one of those days when I can’t think of anything to say in my blog.
OK... That’s not strictly true. I could write about all sorts of things, but some of them are too personal: Yes, I did have a wonderful weekend and a fabulous Monday, thank you.
Some of the things I could write about are too weird: Dreams? Out, in a city I didn’t know, with a bunch of middle-aged women I’d never met, who were all drunk except me, so why did I ask the barman for a ‘very bloody virgin mary’ and what the hell is one of those? (I’m thinking a salt’n’pepper rim and extra tabasco).
Some of the things I might consider discussing are just too dull or frustrating or daft. Those edits and proofing notes? Why oh why remove the commas and then suggest that the sentence needs restructuring, taking the impact away from the front (where I’d deliberately placed it) so that the thing makes sense because without the commas there’s ambiguity! Argh!
Some of the things I would normally put out there are simply too domestic for a Tuesday. There’s no dishwasher salt and I’ve run out of paracetamol because of that headache I had yesterday, and I should order an extra pint of milk now that we have the coffee machine, and is there enough chicken left for two for dinner?
You see what I mean?
That’s life. That, ladies and gentlemen is your life and my life and the bloke down the street’s life.
On the other hand, the bloke down our street is a photographer, which I think is rather glamorous, not least because he’s young and buff, and he’s got his own darkroom... and he knows how to use the medium format camera that I bought months ago and haven’t got around to playing with yet. Making pictures with light, for goodness sake! How romantic is that?
Anyway, the husband is desperately in need of new head shots, so James is popping in this morning for a chat, because that’s how we rock. He might even rummage about for locations, which I guess will consist of which chair the husband might want to sit in or which bookcase he might lean nonchalantly against.
I’m rather looking forward to this experience.
Adelie High has always been the husband’s photographer of choice so this is something of a departure. I’ll let you know how it goes. Who knows, maybe I’ll even charm the lovely man into taking a shot of me for this blog; and if my brand of charm doesn’t quite cut it with young, buff photographers, a cup of decent coffee from the new machine ought to do it.