A whole new level of self-indulgence

I've reached that stage in our life's journey when occasional Facebook searches to see what past acquaintances are up to have started to carry a reasonable risk of showing these people with babies in their arms.

So far, it's generally been the people I would have least expected or hoped to take on that sort of responsibility in their lives, but five years is a long time and people can change. Just because, when I knew him, he'd do things like leave a half-eaten chicken in a bag in the corner of his bedroom for a week or two, wonder why he could hear the sound of pattering rain on a clear day, eventually realise it was the sound of feasting maggots, take care of the problem with a vacuum cleaner, then wonder why his living room was hosting more flies than usual that summer, doesn't necessarily mean he shouldn't be trusted to look after a living, breathing human being.

Since I'm only marginally above that level of incompetence myself, I won't have any photos of mewling, puking offspring to share with you for a good while yet (if ever). But I do have some photos of myself as a young child, courtesy of my Mum who scanned and emailed them for my wife to have a laugh at. And you thought this blog couldn't possibly get more onanistic - don't underestimate me again!

1985 - 1991/2(ish)

Comfort your helpless infant after you take a photo of his distress

I hope there aren't legal/ethical issues with posting this. I gave myself permission

The tell-tale sunlight suggests this is Tenerife rather than Cheshire,
so one of my first travel photos (still the westest I've been)

Even at that age, I get the feeling he'd rather be at home, in his room with all his jigsaws

First day of school. I remember we got there unfashionably early to take photos of my great shorts. My brother's head seems to be developing out of proportion to the rest of his body. He's doing a PhD now

This was likely the birthday when all my "friends" (and my younger brother) were entertained by a man dressed as Ronald McDonald, but I was terrified, cried and didn't join in.

He'll be alright, look: he's got mazes

Remember when you used to care about stuff?

I wouldn't get over this shameful materialism for another 15 years or so.
(What's in the box? I'll go with Dizzy Dizzy Dinosaur)

Why pay for an expensive souvenir photo captured at the fun splashdown part when you can take your own at the boring parts for free? Thriftiness is in the genes