Son Number Two and I travelled to a children’s casting agency. He’s done one job years ago and we are now living in a place where it is possible to continue with that. Why not says I? He looked sharp, and the interviewer concurred and remarked that it was exactly the right type of outfit that would be suitable for a photo shoot. And I thought ‘I haven’t been photographing my children for twenty fours years without picking up a thing or two’. And then I thought ‘Twenty four years? Fuck.’
There was lots to see today and I enjoyed seeing other sharply dressed minors out and about in the Saturday sunshine. There were the two little boys, out with Dad, in coloured Converse and Levi’s jeans. Another young man – about four – a picture of sartorial elegance in a paperboy cap, skinny jeans, a polo and a fitted jumper.
Then there was a girl at the McDonald’s counter in bubble gum pink Doc Marten knock-off’s and black leggings. Daughter Number One had, when she was about eight, a magnificent pair of fake Doc’s. They were covered in black and white portraits of different faces, approximately two centimetres square in size. They were so cool! I loved them! She loved them. She wore them everywhere. To the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, with her hair streaked pink with food colouring. Not every eight year old could pull that off. She was so cool.
There is beauty in the old pub juxtaposed against the modern building contrasted with the bright blue sky.
There is much to see and much to do. I’m going to go here:
And I’m getting myself a new camera because using my phone just isn’t doing it for me. No offense Apple.
Travel safe x