There’s been a bit of a hiatus on the photo a day project - we’ll just call it the birthday girl’s special allowance… (any pics from my birthday probably aren’t fit for a public blog anyway.)
So, we’re now on day twenty four. A self-portrait of sorts. Well, of my arm at least.
It’s my birthday tomorrow! The lovely cake my lovely boss got me… om nom nom…
Some flowers my mother brought me - sadly the iPhone camera’s poor indoor performance does them no justice.
Another Kelvingrove Park picture. Today was the West End Festival parade. I missed the parade itself, but turned up in time to catch a bit of the Subcity djs set. There is something quite bizarre about pounding tunes, people drinking and dancing like it’s a nightclub… but at 4pm with toddlers wandering in between the thronging masses and the odd picnic dotted around.
LED par cans. Cool as.
The iPhone’s camera is generally crap unless it’s really sunny, which is a bit of a rarity in Scotland.
If you do have decent light, though, you can sometimes get some pretty cool pictures. This one was an accident (I was trying to get a picture of my head for the #ebethchallenge on Twitter but moved the camera too quickly - don’t ask) but I kinda like it.
The seagulls are patiently awaiting their prey: cold chips and discarded gherkins.
I hate seagulls. Horrible creatures that infest Glasgow city centre and are pretty damn terrifying when they’re out in their hordes attacking bins/pensioners. I saw one eating a dead pigeon yesterday while all of the dead pigeon’s liitle pigeon friends looked on sadly*.
* I’m not sure that pigeons can display emotion, but if they could have, these ones would have looked sad.
Ignoring the horrible industrial stuff at the forefront of the picture, Glasgow can be a pretty nice place to be when the sun decides to pop out for a bit. This was taken in Kirkintilloch, a few minutes drive from the city centre.
I pretend I’m a DJ every once in a while, usually when one of my DJ mates goes to the toilet, but I have been known to play a few tunes (badly) by myself on occasion.
There’s nothing quite like the butterflies in your stomach feeling as you watch the seconds tick down on the track that’s already playing, knowing that if you don’t play the next one in time, or you play it too early resulting in some horrible sound clashes, 1000 drunk people will either point and laugh at you or they’ll riot.
Despite having more opportunities to become a ‘proper’ DJ (i.e. one that works in clubs rather than one that sits in their bedroom mixing tracks for their ears only) than most, it’s something I’ve never aspired to be. I often wonder why - it’s good money, it appeals to my night-owl tendancies and it’s quite a ‘cool’ job. I think I’m just a coward - no matter how many times I’m faced with the “shall I play it now? now? Arrgh, I’ve missed it! Silence! Bugger!” situation, it doesn’t get any easier. I just don’t think I can deal with the pressure. Or the punters for that matter.
Here’s the mixing desk I used last night to play my one and only track of the night last night during my bathroom break duty for the real DJ, Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon.
Taking photos while driving - shocking. I was at a red light, not that you’d know since the one in the photo is broken.
This was taken in Paisley and I think it sums up how I feel about the place - some very beautiful buildings but surrounded by a sad and depressingly decomposing town.
