This morning, in Synagogue, I was holding one of my many nieces/nephews, O, who's five months, and an old friend of mine, M, who I've not seen for a few years came up to me. That's what's nice about Yom Tov; M lives in Bounds Green, which is not that far from me - the Art Deco hinterland - but we only see each other in Cheadle. Lots of people come home, and you catch up with them, fleetingly - with a twenty second update on their life. He had mine down pat.
- Hi Sasha, looks like your life changed since I last saw you
- Er, no, he's not mine
M's a photographer now, and he and his friend J (now editor on a big northern paper) were the only people who ever took good photos of me. Well, any photos, really: I don't really like having my picture taken. From the age of fourteen to about nineteen, they couldn't get anyone else to model for them, and I did all manner of strange things: half light (aka early Beatles pics), field of flowers (aka early any seventies photos), twenties stuff (I had all the clothes). We talked briefly about the little picture for my forthcoming print column, and he said they're always twenty years old, why don't I use one of his?
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