Picture of the Day: July 2007

Lots of pictures from July 2007. I’d forgotten how long the summers were when you were young. The banner will be from near where I grew up in France. I took it for granted then but it’s a nice part of the world.

I can’t believe I posted this FILTH on the internet. And I can’t believe I am doing it again now.

This is my best mate Matt and his dog (er, sorry Dog I forgot your name). Matt and I still talk on the internet etc but we live apart now and I miss him. I think if I hadn’t have known him I would have turned into a total dickhead instead of a part dickhead.

More Artiste merchandise. This time, boxer shorts. But the kind of boxers so big and thick and baggy that you wonder how people actually fit them inside their jeans. Here they are pictured over the top of my jeans.

This would have been at the Shrewsbury Flower Show I think, now sadly cancelled. It was a big deal at the time and quite a posh event, but also one where they had a ‘biggest marrow’ and ‘best potato’ tent. I suspect I was here to play with the brass band I was in.

Speaking of which… this was my tuba. This was a huge upgrade over the last one they’d given me, which had a box that looked more like a coffin, and was almost impossible to carry. This one didn’t want to cut you every time to picked it up. I was still jealous of my tuba playing colleagues though who had cases with wheels.

And here we are playing at the Symphony Hall in Birmingham. I should definitely not have been trying to get a picture at this stage, we were about to go before the judges in a competition piece. But of course in hindsight I’m glad I did now - it’s hard to believe we even did shit like this. Look at the fucking scale of it.

This was one of the best places to play, probably the best acoustics in the country. They say that you can hear a pin drop on stage from anywhere in the auditorium. It’s surreal playing there, the sound sort of disappears above you, you get very little feedback to hear what is going on.

Back in France now. This is my dad’s garden. Usually overgrown and full of spikey shit.

Not the greatest photo but this is to say if you are ever around Marseille, the pizza is very underrated down there. Get it from a shitty looking van on the side of the road, probably with a not-strictly-legal wood burning stove, you will not be disappointed.

The view from my grandmother’s house in Sausset. I think she’d died a few years before, but it was a cute place right by the sea.

The same pool from before, but full. Yes it was leaky and full of wasps but in the boiling heat it was always nice.

The Arles Amphitheatre. I remember I’d just got my driver’s licence that year and my dad kindly let me borrow the car. He would often be working while we were there so it was a case of making your own fun. I took myself over to Arles and had a nice day out.

When I parked up a gypsy lady tried to sell me a rose, I said no thanks, she cursed me. I wonder what life would have been without the curse.

You might be getting the vibe that we were a tad stuck-in-one place on the holidays in France. This is the view from the same garden again.

I stand corrected! The next day we set off the Pyrenees. I always liked it there, the air was fresher and cooler and life always seemed a little easier. In hindsight I suppose it’s because everyone was on holiday when we were there, whereas back in Provence actually it was just me and my brother.