You see that grumpy looking wee girl in the front there? The one with the pudding bowl haircut? That’s me, age 6, having my photo taken for the local paper to ‘celebrate’ taking part in a month long read-a-thon at my primary school.
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I am nae chuffed.
Let me put that another way. I’m crabbit. Awfy crabbit. So I’ve come on here to have a wee blether about it.
I don’t know if you’ve been paying any attention to the stramash around the Scottish Independence referendum? In my corner of the world, it has been hard not to. There has been a lot going on. David Cameron has been sticking his big old neb in, the Scottish Government have released a draft consultation document, and the tartan blogosphere is talking itself round in circles.
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A lovely frosty morning: not the best photo in the world, by any stretch of the imagination.
But a celebration of my new photography philosophy – to capture happy memories and worry less about getting perfect pictures.
Also a celebration of my new phone and its photo-taking capabilities. Hurrah!
I feel like such an idiot. I’m doing the 52 week project. I’m supposed to be taking at least one really good photo a week. Something that’ll remind me of that week, and any interesting things that I did.
So you’d think – given that I spent half an hour posing for photos outside one of the world’s most famous and recognisable doors on Wednesday – I might have remembered to take a photo of it myself. Even a phone photo.
But I didn’t. I didn’t take a photo of the 10 Downing Street door, or of the Downing Street sign, or of my fellow campaigners.
Instead, the only photo I have from my day in London is this one.
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A normal Wednesday for me usually involves some laundry, some grocery shopping, maybe a walk in the park, and a jigsaw or a game of hide and seek with DorkySon.
Yesterday was a little different. I went to Downing Street.
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Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 