Picture This.

I took a couple of photos today when I was on the way to the library. 

I only managed one shot before the cat stopped cooperating and started washing. They're all the same; feigning nonchalance when they know exactly what they're doing. They may be my favourite species, but they’re a pain in the arse whenever they see fit.

The door reminds me, perhaps unsurprisingly, of the old Big Day Out song ‘Red Front Door’, that we used to play as a four-piece. The song was inspired by the appropriately-coloured entrance to former Labour MP Barbara Follett’s old house on Stevenage High Street, which I used to walk past every day on my way to school. Despite the fact I’d see it the most, I played little part in the writing, but I liked the concept, which was taken from the point of view of someone in the public eye seeking solace in their house when it all got too much:

“And I can’t take any more; it drives me out of my shoes.
I’m happy hiding behind my red front door; it keeps me out of the news.”

I imagine Follett felt very much this way in the midst of the expenses scandal.

The other photo I took was this:




I can’t quite read the expression; is it sheepish or happy? It's either embarrassed about the parking enforcement or ecstatic. Still...never trust noseless being. It looks like Wizbit on a pike.

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