The Peeping Tom

 

Part of my daily pandemic routine involves getting up on a normal working day and, after feeding the two demanding young cats that are my new masters, I go for a three-mile walk. This happens at roughly 6am in the morning when most sane people are asleep in their warm beds dreaming of a time when the world isn’t being ravaged by a nasty virus.

In the winter months a walk can be an unpleasant experience; it is dark, cold and sometimes pouring with rain. You may ask what the appeal of subjecting myself to the cold and hostile elements of Manchester at 6am in January can be.

I ask myself the very same question.

However, at that time of day, whether it is January or March, it is really peaceful. There are very few cars and people around and the streets are calm and quiet. I remember that I used to love walking the streets doing a morning paper round as a kid for exactly the same reason.

I can walk along, drift into my own little world and contemplate life, the universe and everything, while at the same time getting some exercise. Sometimes I am accompanied by Mrs PM, other times I am on my own with just my iPod for company.

It is blissful, even when it is raining.

There is one downside though and try as I might, I find that I cannot avoid it.

I sometimes feel like I am a Peeping Tom.

Okay, I can imagine that you are considering clicking the little X in the corner of your browser window now and the one thought that is running through your head is “I didn’t know that this man was such a bloody pervert!” and imagine me creeping up to people’s houses to peer into their window with a lecherous and leering look on my grinning face.

You are 100% wrong.

Allow me to explain and hopefully put your mind at rest. As I walk along the street in the darkness of a cold, winter morning, I find my gaze drifting towards houses and seeing no lights in most of them because people are in bed. Sometimes, however, I see the odd bedroom light on. On other occasions, people are up and about and downstairs lights are on.

In almost all cases, the people concerned value their privacy and keep their blinds, shutters or curtains closed.

Sadly, there are those people – let’s call them exhibitionists – who want to let everybody outside know exactly what they are doing. These people open their curtains, blinds or whatever, switch on their lights and then, for reasons I have yet to fathom, do whatever they need to do in full view of anybody who happened to be walking outside their house.

I am very paranoid about allowing people to stare into my house when it is dark outside. My curtains and shutters are closed as soon as the sun sinks behind the horizon and they remain so until I am fully dressed and sun has popped up again. 

The last thing I want to see is a person – any person – gazing into my house as I go about my business. 

Now I can imagine another thought going through your head dear reader – “What on Earth are you doing in your house that you don’t want people to see?”

The answer is “Nothing – of course!” What do you think I am? I am just a normal geezer and I am nothing like this bloke or any of the people he spies on:

Call me weird if you like but I like my privacy.

And this is why, when I see these people opening themselves to the world for all to see at 6am on a dark winter morning, I think they are peculiar.

Why would you do that? 

And I can now guess that thinking – “Well, Peeping Tom, you don’t HAVE to look.”

And you would be right (except for calling me Peeping Tom). I don’t have to look but I find my eyes subconsciously drawn to any light source at that time of the morning. I’m not even aware that I am doing it until see somebody eating his breakfast staring back at me. 

In my head, I am miles away on a voyage through my imagination thinking about budding novels about vampires, aliens and space wars. The last thing I want to see is an old bloke eating his cornflakes in his pyjamas.

When this happens, I have a deep urge to march up to his window and scream “Shut your bloody curtains, man! Nobody wants see you chomping on your toast in your jim-jams you bloody weirdo!”

Of course, I don’t do that and you will be pleased to know that I avert my eyes from these exhibitionists as quickly as possible.

They can ruin my walk. I am brought crashing back to reality, away from the space opera in my head and as I continue, I have to start again and expunge the image of the old so and so from my brain, lest it remain there and ruin my creativity.

Thankfully, it is now March and as I take my walks, my eyes can be drawn towards the rising sun and the wonderful dawns that appear instead of electric lights showing people getting dressed. 

They are much more wonderful as you can see here from a photo taken late last week.

When I am World President, exhibitionism will become a crime and anybody caught revealing the insides of their homes at 6am on a British Winter morning will be confined to their houses throughout summer with their blinds, shutters and curtains nailed shut. 

Apart from that I shall be a benevolent leader – I just don’t like exhibitionists.

The Meaning of Life - Paint It Black

In 2013, I watched a funny programme starring Karl Pilkington called The Moaning of Life, where he travelled the world seeking inspiration for the meaning of life in key areas, such as happiness, kids and death.

Karl Pilkington is a straight talking funny man whose perception of life in general is rather weird, so weird in fact that he is genuinely funny. The show inspired me to write about the meaning of life from my own perspective mirroring the subjects tackled by Karl.

This is the man at is weirdest best - simply trying to promote the book accompanying the first series:

See what I mean? He can't even talk about his book without flying off at weird tangents.

Anyway, now he’s back with a second series where he continues to give us his view of life with new subjects. Again I have decided to join in and offer my views on the same subject.

The first post discusses something that I have mentioned before (and ranted about):

Art

Regular readers may consider me to be an unsophisticated barbarian when it comes to the arts, mainly because I have written a few posts about my views on contemporary art, the people who produce this art and the people who claim to understand and appreciate it.

These people are wrong.

It’s true that I am a stubborn old git but my opinions on art are just my own. While I may mock the pieces of crap that hang on the walls of museums of contemporary art, I genuinely have praise for paintings and sculptures that, in my opinion, say something to the world.

For example, I love paintings of real things,, such as landscapes, oceans, storms and sunsets, particularly if these images have been captured in the past. I find that they give me an insight into life back then and I can imagine the painter sitting in the English countryside, using his skill to capture a specific moment in time for future generations to enjoy.

Here’s an example or two by J.M.W.Turner:

These are fantastic paintings.

I feel rather sorry for J.M.W. Turner to be honest because, sadly, his name has been used (or should I say abused) in modern times. His name has been given to an annual contemporary art competition that genuinely makes me wonder about the sanity and intelligence of certain elements of my nation. 

The Turner Prize is awarded to a so-called visionary young artist (under the age of 50 – so its ageist as well) for their new works of art.

However, the art is utter nonsense. In fact, it’s worse than that – it’s absolutely shit!

The Turner Prize shows everything that is wrong with art. These days, it has been captured and held captive by the pseudo-intellectual brigade, who refuse to accept genuine art because, in their words:

“It’s been done before!”

I could vomit in a bucket, throw the contents onto a canvas, empty the contents of a filthy cat litter tray on top of that, spread it around with a garden rake, throw in a few packets of cat food for good measure, leave it to dry and then hang it up on a wall with the title “Cat Chores Gone Wrong” and I am sure that some pillock out there in the world of contemporary art would start gushing over it, claiming it to be:

“The most exciting cosmic, trans-species interactive amalgamation in the myriad multiverses”.

I might just do that, actually!

But of course, art is really any form and while I may mock a pseudo-intellectual, I am certain that he has his reasons for spouting pseudo-philosophical crap about a vomit stain hanging on a wall.

I find beauty in many other art forms, such as music, video and the wonders of Mother Nature. To be perfectly honest, I prefer photography to painting, simply because when a camera captures an image, it is real. In the minute moment that a camera clicks, a picture of a moment is preserved, whether it is a moment of beauty or tragedy. 

For me, like a Turner landscape, we have captured a moment in time that can be preserved for our future generations to enjoy, contemplate or simply fantasize about. 

I would love a person from two hundred years in the future to see a photograph that I had taken and just spend a few moments trying to imagine what was going on at the time. 

Another art form that is close to my heart is music. Music is personal and, like a photograph, can have a special meaning for a person. I still maintain that a catalogue of personal music can act as a unique time machine for a person. Whenever I hear certain songs, my mind searches my memory banks for a specific moment, selects it and brings into my thoughts so that I can relive what is probably a cherished memory, either of a specific instance or a special month or year.

In that respect, music gives meaning to life and the good thing about music is that, like a fantastic statue, a beautiful photograph or an oil painting of an ancient landscape, we can think about our lives, past lives, history and the future all at the same time.

I’m not sure that a vomit stain hanging in the Tate Gallery would have such a profound effect.

I’ll leave you with two songs from my vast collection that are very special to me for reasons that I may elaborate on in future posts:

How about you, dear reader. 

Are you a fan of art?

What art do you enjoy?

Do you think that a lot of contemporary art is rubbish?

What does "art" mean to you?

Travel Essentials

When I go on holiday or on a trip abroad, there are a few essentials that I have to take with me.

Don’t worry. I’m not going to talk about underwear, toiletries and a passport. That goes without saying unless you think I am the kind of person who only takes one pair of underpants, one pair of socks and sneaks into countries, spending a week or two there with a progressively stronger hum emanating from him.

Rest assured that I do take lots of underwear. Nor am I some kind of ghostly spy from a Robert Ludlum novel.

When I say "essentials" I really mean luxuries that keep me sane when I am on a totally tedious long haul flight, or stuck in a remote hotel on a business trip in a room with only a TV for company, which has three very poor channels all in a foreign language.

On a return business trip from China a few years ago, I found myself flying from Beijing to Amsterdam on China Southern airlines and while the service and environment were no better or worse than any European airlines, the entertainment left a lot to be desired. We had a small personal TV screen in the back of the seat ahead but the entertainment package consisted of three terrible English films and hundreds of Chinese movies. The Chinese passengers loved watching the latest national movies but for me they were terrible. I tried to watch one and gave up because it so awful.

I had nothing to entertain me, other than trying to compose a tune out of the close harmony snoring that was going on around me.

This is exactly why I need something to keep my brain from seizing up in disgust.

Here is my list:

iPod Classic

Regular readers will know that I am a huge fan of music . My iPod Classic can accommodate my entire CD collection. At the moment it contains almost 7000 songs which if played altogether would provide almost 22 days of continuous music.

It’s great for relaxing on a dreary long haul flight and even on holiday when sitting on a sun kissed beach watching the sun’s rays reflecting off the still blue water. 

Kindle

I am an avid reader and consume books. When travelling, I read so many books, especially if the trip is a solitary business trip or we are chilling out on a sunny beach somewhere. In the past I have had to sacrifice clothes (not underpants and socks you’ll be pleased to know) in order to cram another paperback into my luggage; either that or fill my hand luggage with books. Worse, I do have a tendency to hoard books so I end up having to bring them back with me too.

Not now though. My Kindle has saved me. I can download as many books as I like because Kindle storage weighs zero grams. It makes no difference whether I download one book or one hundred books. Gone are the days of taking an entire library onto an aircraft.

I know that purists mourn the dawn of the Kindle and other eReaders but when travelling, it makes life so much easier.

PSP

"We need a new manager!"

I am a sad old fool who still plays the odd computer game. As rare as that is nowadays, I do dabble, particularly on a long haul flight where the only entertainment is a library of bizarre martial arts films.

My particular favourites are football games, in which I either play football matches against the computer, and lose horribly, or as a football manager when I have arguments with computer sprites who play crap and end up getting the sack for precipitating the relegation of my chosen club.

It’s fun though – at least until the swearing starts.

Nexus 7 Tablet

I didn’t think I needed a tablet but now I am converted. The Nexus 7 is a smaller, cheaper version of an iPad but is just as versatile. I have converted my old collection of DVD’s into Nexus 7 friendly files and loaded them onto the device so that I can watch movies at my leisure. I also have an app called Sky Go which allows me to download movies from Sky’s library of films and watch them offline. Add to that a few other useful apps, like puzzle games, offline dictionaries and I  have a very versatile device that allows me to access the internet via hotel wifi to keep me in touch with what’s happening in the world and send/receive emails etc.

I can barely survive a trip without it.

Smartphone

I know what you’re thinking. Making phone calls, sending texts and surfing the internet on a mobile network while in a foreign land can be very expensive.

That’s true, but when abroad, a smartphone is absolutely essential. This device is smaller even than my Nexus 7 tablet which means I can fit it into my pocket when I am out and about. The great thing about my phone is that I can download maps of my destination and use GPS to find my way around foreign cities without the need for paying stupid money to download maps on the fly. I can also download offline dictionaries in a variety of languages which stops me looking like a fool when sitting in a restaurant which has no menus in English. There are so many useful apps available that my smartphone is almost like having a travel guide with me all the time.

And it takes decent pictures too.

Camera

"I''m still not sure I have anough cameras!"

As good as a smartphone camera is, it simply doesn’t meet the standard of a proper digital camera. We have two cameras, the first is a small one that fits snugly into my pocket and takes amazing pictures, particularly in the dark. The other is a digital SLR which Mrs PM uses to take incredible photos. Of course, it is much bulkier but the photos it produces more than compensate from the stigma of standing out like a tourist. At the start of this year I was too scared to use it, but I have spent 30 days trying to master a little bit of theory with a view to actually trying to take some half decent photographs with it when we go to Brazil later this year.

And finally …

I’m sure more sensible readers will roll their eyes and say “What about sun protection, health protection, guide books and all of the other essentials to keep you safe?”

Yes – they are essentials (particularly sun cream which prevents me devolving into a lobster) but I need simply pleasures to keep me sane on long tedious flights and when stuck on my own in a strange hotel room in deepest darkest China.

Sadly, I have to endure another business trip to China in June and I will have nobody to play with. The devices above will make the trip far more enjoyable.

So there!

Over to you, dear reader.

What do you regard as essential travel items?

Molto Bene

May is approaching and with it, improved weather and the holiday season, the time of the year when the days are longer and brighter and I get to enjoy the prospect of a trip or two abroad that isn’t work related.

The first of those trips is a long weekend to Bologna in Italy. Mrs PM and I plus five friends are popping across to the home of spaghetti bolognese and I can’t wait.

You may also know that this year I have decided to attempt to improve myself by adopting several 30 day challenges throughout the year. My reasons for doing this are as follows.

First, I have been tired of the same old tired New Year’s Resolution because I fail miserably. By forcing myself to concentrate on something for 30 days.

Second, other bloggers have attempted something similar and it yields results.

Finally, I am aware that this challenge is probably a bit of a midlife crisis. When I analyse my reasons for wanting to do it, I simply want to add a few more strings to my bow. Regular readers will know that I really want to do something other than my chosen career and by trying a few other things I get a sense of relief and a little bit of hope that something will appeal to me so much that I take a chance and go for it.

Anyway, enough of that crap; it’s early days yet.

My current 30 day challenge is to learn basic Italian in time for our trip to Bologna. And I am thoroughly enjoying it. One of the things I’ve always regretted is my limited knowledge of languages and the struggle I have when immersed in a culture that speaks little or no English, and I can’t even begin to make myself understood.

I’m really lucky that I speak English, American, Canadian and Australian fluently. My French is good enough to make myself understood, my Spanish is improving rapidly and my German needs some work.

Before April 1st this year, my Italian was limited to molto bene, scusi and ciao

But now I can say a lot more and I understand the basics. And all this from between 20 minutes and an hour a day learning from the internet using two tools that are absolutely free to use.

The first is Duolingo that offers lessons in the form of challenges, a bit like a game. Gradually you learn phrases, sentence structure and vocabulary, writing out translations in English and Italian and also practicing listening and speaking.

The second is Memrise that helps improve vocabulary with flashcards and repetitive tests with picture and prompts to help to jog your memory if you forget.

I have been using these tools to great effect to strengthen my Spanish skills and I am now able to have a very good level of understanding of online Spanish magazines as a result. I’m not fluent by any stretch of the imagination but I can get the gist of what I am reading.

I have 12 more days of Italian and then a real test when I actually go there and try to speak with the locals. Wish me luck; I think I’ll need it.

I have so far completed five of these 30 day challenges.

(1) Walk at least two miles every day – This was easy, In January I made a real effort to force myself outside every single day no matter how cold and miserable it was. As a result, I achieved a little more fitness than I would normally have done and since then I have continued to walk on average two miles a day on most days since then.

(2) Improve Spanish – I concentrated on my Spanish using Duolingo and Memrise for the whole of January as well as attempting to read Spanish web sites and watch Spanish videos. This was tough and still is but I have improved my vocabulary and reading skills.

(3) Photography – I spent February trying to improve my photography skills, reading books and trying to get to grips with Mrs PM’s digital SLR. I had an ally with this because Mrs PM is a great photographer and explained a lot of techniques she had learned on a course she attended a few years ago. I am attempting another photography challenge in May because of holidays. This time the emphasis will be to actually take Mrs PM’s camera and try to take as many cool shots as possible.

(4) Creative Writing – A few years ago, I bought two creative writing books and I have never read them. They have simply gathered dust on my bookshelf. In March I decided to blow off the dust and read them from cover to cover. Also, in March I write down lots of notes for writing ideas including a novel. I thoroughly enjoyed this challenge and it has sown the seed of a massive challenge later this year.

(5) Life Coach – When I found the creative writing book, I also spotted a book about being your own life coach. Both Mrs PM and I have no idea where it came from (she thinks I bought it and I think she bought it – perhaps it’s a survivor of my time with my ex-wife – I can’t remember). Anyway, I decided to read this too because, the author claimed, the book can change your life and make you grab your desires by the scruff of the neck and totally change its direction for the better. The truth is, that while I found it vaguely interesting, the book was full of Mr Motivator ideas like “JUST DO IT!!!” and while I could relate to some elements of it, most of it was aimed towards those of us who can burst into a room and announce “I’M HERE!!” with no fear of the consequences. All of the stories of success were a bit too contrived for me. It was good to read though – not something I would normally even consider picking up.

What’s next?

Our big holiday this year is Brazil in October so, depending on how successful I am with Italian, I am planning to spend 30 days learning Portugese.

One challenge I have been dying to try, but lacked courage and belief in my own ability to do so, is to write a novel in November (National Novel Writing Month – or Nanowrimo). This is a 30 day challenge just waiting to happen – so I am going for it.

Mrs PM can play a piano so she has been talking about buying a digital piano for a couple of years now. We’ve chatted about this and I said that if we buy one, then I will spend 30 days trying to teach myself how to play it. I can read music (well I used to be able to) so how hard can it be? Don’t answer that – I know it’s hard.

Anyway, enough of this nonsense for now.

Wish me luck with my Italian and I will let you know whether I made a complete arse of myself in Bologna or not in due course.

Our House In The Middle Of Our Street

In my wrap up post for last year, I suggested that I might try a couple of 30 day challenges, in order to have a little fun, learn something new or just make a couple of tiny improvements.

I have just completed two in a month.

I thought I would start with easy challenges, just to ease me into the concept and acclimatise me to the discipline required.

The first challenge was to walk at least two miles a day for 30 days. I usually go for a lunchtime walk at work just to get me away from my desk but I don’t usually force myself to walk as far as two miles, usually a little under. Also, I don’t walk every day at weekends.

This proved to be easier than I thought. Armed with an application on my phone and a pedometer to measure distance etc., I marched around the streets with my trusty iPod as a guide, pumping out decent well timed music.

When the snow came, last week, it was a little tougher but I completed the challenge with a 2.3 mile walk around Didsbury.

The pedometer proved to be extremely useful because it measured how far I walked during the rest of the day, rather than just on a two mile walk around the block – I was surprised to be honest that I actually walked probably twice that distance just ambling around the office, running up the stairs etc.

My second challenge was to dedicate an hour a day to learning Spanish. Again, this seemed relatively easy because I have been learning on and off for the best part of two years now, but this was tougher than I thought. Again, my smartphone came in very useful, allowing me to learn new vocabulary with a suitable application, and to read a Spanish web site whilst on a bus, at home on the settee or even on the throne.

Now that I am used to it, I will try to read a little Spanish and learn some grammar and vocabulary on a more regular basis.

So now to the next challenge: I am going to start improving my photography. I have an assistant for this one because Mrs PM is a keen and able photographer, so I will spend the next 30 days either taking photos or reading some of her books on how to improve my techniques.

“What has all this malarkey got to do with the blog post title?” I hear you ask.

Allow me to elaborate. I’ve taken a few photos from around my house this weekend and I thought I would share them. They’re nothing special but I hope that may change with a little practice and insight from Mrs PM and her books over the coming month.

Here they are with suitable captions.

There's a meerkat in our mug cupboard

I don't even drink spirits!!!

An English Rose

The Warrior who guards the gasfire

Flower and lamp

A chequered bathroom

A glimpse of my CD collection and, yes, it is in alphabetical order!

Cheshire Cat seems happy.

Mantlepiece

Some books - they are not all mine!

A boring cloudy day through a pretty window

Straight from the 1970's to our bedroom

And, of course, I can't take photos of our house without my three bosses.

Jasper has had such a busy day - he's exhausted!

Poppy is terrified - what on earth is the oaf pointing at me now?

Liquorice plotting her next attack from the comfort of her furry tube.

If you fancy letting me know what you think, please feel free.

The Things You Do For Love

I am going to do something I promised myself I wouldn’t do: show you a photo of the Plastic Mancunian.

I had decided not to do allow my ugly mug on this blog in case it scared the children. However, in this case I feel it is necessary to highlight the subject matter of the post.

It all started two or three years ago when Mrs PM decided to augment her self-taught amateur photography skills by joining a local evening class. Off she would go every Wednesday, armed with her digital SLR camera and a bucket of enthusiasm. She would return with a huge smile on her face and stories about the people on the course, the topics being covered and some of the new techniques she had learned. I would dutifully walk around with her as she wondered around taking photos of absolutely anything. And she was good – very good.

And then came that fateful day.

She returned home looking perplexed.

“What’s the matter?” I said.

“I have to take photos in the studio at the college.” she replied. “It has to be of a person with the theme Style With Attitude. I’m stuck.”

Being the devoted partner that I am we discussed how she could achieve this. Being into rock music in a big way, I suggested that as a theme. I picked up last month’s copy of “Classic Rock” magazine and said

“Take a look through this. Rock musicians have style and enough attitude to terrify an army of robots. You’ve got all sorts in there.”

In fact there was a picture of Gene Simmons from Kiss in his glory days of the seventies, full of make-up and showing the entire world how long his tongue was.

“What about him?” I said.

“Brilliant!” she replied.

And then it happened.

“Will you do it?” she squeaked.

“Absolutely not.” I replied. “There is absolutely no way that I am putting on makeup. There is absolutely no way that I am sitting in a studio looking like an arse. There is absolutely no way that I am allowing you to take photos of me covered in black and white paint to show your friends.”

I was resolute. I was determined. My mind was made up. I would not do it.

Ten minutes later we were discussing how to apply the makeup to my face.

I don’t know what it is about females but they have this way of persuading men to do whatever they want. I don’t even recall saying “Okay – I’ll allow you to make a complete arse of me.”

As the fateful day approached, I discovered three things.

First, there was a former work colleague of mine, Martin, on her course. My attempt to keep this little project a secret would therefore be blown out of the water.

Second, I naively thought that if she had the studio for three hours we could apply the make up there, take the photos and then I could remove the makeup and go. Wrong again. She needed the full three hours to set up the lighting, familiarize herself with the equipment and take hundreds of photos, most of which would be discarded. I would have to have the makeup applied at home and get to the studio in full view of everybody.

Third, the studio session was booked for Wednesday night, which meant that the college would be full of students, and worse, my former work colleague would be there.

On the day, I left work early and arrived home in trepidation. Mrs PM sat there for almost an hour painting my face. I could hear the cats sniggering – treacherous felines that they are.

After she had finished, she was so proud that I couldn’t express my true feelings. I stared at myself in the mirror and almost passed out with embarrassment. When I put on the black wig, I almost frightened myself to death.

Thankfully, Mrs PM wouldn’t let me put on my glasses in case it smudged the makeup so on the journey to the college so I was oblivious to the stares I was getting. Mrs PM kept sniggering all the way there (a full fifteen minute journey) because people were openly laughing at me.

When we arrived at the college, Mrs PM led me through the crowded foyer and up three flights of stairs. We arrived at the studio and found the door locked. Mrs PM said

“Wait there – I need to get the key. I won’t be long.”

She left me standing there in a crowded corridor for ten minutes, with seemingly hundreds of people walking past and trying not to laugh. Some people actually spoke to me.

“Where’s the fancy dress party?”

“Are you the Joker?”

“Are you ill?”

“Very good. Is it Hallowe’en?”

After an eternity, she returned and said “Martin’s here. He wants to see you in your makeup.”

“Martin can f**k off” I snarled.

I discovered that we were actually sharing the studio with another female student whose idea of style with attitude was to photograph her friend in a variety of delightful poses. All that separated the two girls from Mrs PM and the monster was a black curtain. The other student peered around the curtain and said “Hiya” to Mrs PM before saying “Bloody Hell!” the instant she saw me. I must have scared her half to death.

For the next three hours. Mrs PM barked instructions at me, making me snarl, pose, headbang, grimace, leap up and down. The other two girls in the studio were laughing not so much at my face but at the way Mrs PM was saying “Snarl at me, baby. SNARL!! YOU’RE ANGRY – SHOW IT!!!”

At the end I grabbed Mrs PM’s bag of makeup remover and ran to the disabled toilets to remove the gunk from my face. There was no way I was going to let Martin see me like this.

Guys, have ever tried to remove makeup? It is impossible. I spent about half an hour scrubbing my face with goo. The black and white makeup blurred into a putrid grey colour that made me look like death warmed up. Mrs PM knocked on the door – “Are you OK in there?”

“Yes,” I grimaced, scrubbing my face with the toilet brush in desperation.

Finally I managed to get it all off – or so I thought.

I returned to Mrs PMs class and shook hands with Martin (who I hadn’t seen for a while). By this time, Mrs PM had shown the entire class the photos and they had been well received. Martin laughed, but only when I closed my eyes – I had left black makeup on my eyelids. Also my face was red raw where my attempts to get rid of the makeup had actually removed flesh.

Of course, now everybody has seen the photos. In fact, one of the photos was blown up to three feet square and hung up in the canteen. How embarrassing. The good news is that you cannot really tell that it is me in the photos. My hair is short and blond and I wear glasses. People have remarked “Is that really you?”

That’s another reason why I have decided to post the photos. Here are a couple of them (including the one that was blown up):








For those of you who have never seen Gene Simmons in his full glory, here he is:


Can you spot the difference?

Mrs PM has now given up the course but still takes lots of photographs – of other things thankfully.

I’m pleased with that – I have only just recovered. I’m sure there’s still makeup somewhere on my face.