(It's a retro thing. Click the sepia-style doodads to see the full size pics.)

I am what I am...

A murder mystery party. I played the part of Edith le Grand Butte, wife of the mayor of Casablanca and suspect in the murder of a mime artiste. Turned out that I didn't do it. More's the pity.

Glasgow, October 2001.

The picture on the left was taken at the start of the evening. The one on the right was the next morning. Oh dear.

What a swell party this is...

My first cigar. The occasion was just a small birthday bash, a few carefully selected acquaintances, some of the nicer whisky; but it does make for a good photo though I say so myself.

I swore after that that I wouldn't smoke another cigar. Mainly because that one took three hours to smoke, and that is frankly ridiculous if you ask me. Especially since you're not even meant to inhale.

I think the date is 1999, though I can't be sure.

See that girl, watch that scene...

This is me and some of my Equality Network chums queueing up to go and see the Queen at one of her madge's garden parties at the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh. We weren't actually meant to take cameras, but you know how it is. This was July 2001, and we were invited along as a queer campaigning organisation, which I think is very nice.

Unsurprisingly we didn't get to press the flesh. And in fact, if truth be told, it was all rather dull. But very well catered.

I learned the truth at 17... (frightening thought).

Me and my friends at school. I'm the one with the unearthly glow around my head. You'd have thought that would have put my teachers off. In fact, this is my entire upper-sixth year, all ten of us. Which explains quite neatly how I ended up being captain of the first eleven at cricket (I was the only one who played!) and head boy of the school (well, just look at the rest of 'em!).

I'm delighted to say that thanks to the wonder of the internet, I'm in irregular contact with quite a few of the chaps nowadays. Sometimes I miss those days. I especially miss my old friend Beany, in the top row of the picture, who died in 1997. RIP Matthew, you silly bugger.

Take that look off your face...

Okay, I know what you're thinking - I could have come up a with a new hairstyle after twenty years. Well, it's not easy. This picture was taken on my first trip abroad, to the Loire valley in France, on a school trip to see chateaux. I was about ten, I think.

I have some pictures from that holiday which quite simply defy explanation. It escapes me why I wasn't shot on sight at the border.

Stop laughing at me, I'm only little.

Oops I did it again...

Slightly more recent - me and my first nephew, Greig. I'd reckon this was taken in March 1994, just a few weeks after he was born. Obviously I have that whole centre-parting thing going on... yowser. This was after my goatee beard period. Thank god. How I miss that jumper though; I stole it from a dear friend, and wore it continually until it was no longer fit to be called clothing. Poor Steven.

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