Meat Cleavers of the Wo Shing Wo

I had my publicity photographs taken today. I look suitably ugly, surly and ridiculous. With the eye patch, flowing locks and the traditional black ensemble I could even be mistaken for a cliché or writer of comic books (the two states of being often seem to entwine). Various bridges, steps, trees and graffiti covered walls were called into service as backgrounds and Nicola, the photographer, did a great job given the fact it is impossible to take a good photograph of me.

With the contractual obligation to provide photographs fulfilled, I was free to spend the rest of the day changing my appearance. For reasons of security – not least of which is the need to avoid the threatened meat cleavers of the Wo Shing Wo – I cannot divulge details of my transformation. All I can tell you is that Surreal Girl was the stylist and I am still having difficulty recognising myself in the mirror. Trust me, this is a good thing, even if I am still in shock at the prospect of wearing shorts for the first time since the age of 10.

At some levels, it has been a gentle day without any big events. Sunshine, easy laughter and smiles drifted into a delightful night of Red Planet pizza, wine, football and the company of friends. However, sometimes even a gentle day can contain hidden, monumental shifts in your being and personal history. That has been my experience today. Beyond the surface, beyond the ability of any camera lens to capture, things have happened and I am grinning right down to the core of my being.

From enjoying a Cuban-style brunch of fried banana, spicy tomato sauce and rice to cursing Sven-Göran Eriksson in a strange Kurdish café, every moment has seemed to give me a wonderful memory to bank. Post my vision of the mayfly whilst in hospital, I try to take nothing for granted. This means if nothing else, I know just fortunate to be enjoying elements of my life at present - despite the threatened meat cleavers of the Wo Shing Wo.