You’ll notice the one thing this blog lacks is any pictures of its writer. That’s deliberate – I have a long-held aversion to pictures of myself and am of the generation that finds selfies fairly baffling, so tend to take pictures of stuff rather than of me in / at stuff. (The irony of course is now I look at the few old pictures that exist of me and think I look great. Was I ever that thin?! How did I get my hair like that?)

So today when I went to Byres Road and saw some Instagram-bait wall art outside a bar I was going to ignore it: then I thought, hell, why not? And, yes, I look fat and hungover and red-faced and cold (since I was actually all of those things), but I also look… happy? And maybe it’s time I focused on that a bit more.

(Also it’s not strictly a selfie since I didn’t take it, I guess, but it counts, right?)