We asked some of our snap-happy contributors to take a photo, just for Standard Issue, and tell us about it. Prepare for wild-eyed badgers, second thoughts graffiti and a wonderful birdman.
Taken in Budapest on Monday, this photo is what you might class as being slightly ‘meta’. It really makes me wonder what on earth is going on in this barbershop for both women and photographs to be banned.
Maybe oestrogen and flash photography are to blame for male pattern baldness? Guess I’ll never know – I took my bonnet and camera and sashayed away, all ladylike, down the Danube.
I have a phone stuffed to the gills with photos of graffiti from hundreds of years ago to the present day, but this one made me laugh. The size of the ‘L’ suggests someone was really rather angry indeed, thinking, “Yeah, I’ll show those bastards what I think!”, got all fired up, started, and then thought “Oh god what’s the point?” And shuffled off, shoulders hunched.
The year since getting this gorgeous, furry prick of a cat (‘The Captain’) has been punctuated by at least one session a month of me attempting to, and failing, to capture the perfect selfie, and being cruelly denied.
Typical of his capricious nature, the one day he does finally decide to gaze smoulderingly into the camera is the one where I’m not wearing any makeup whatsoever. You may recognise The Captain – he achieved Twitter fame for at least an hour as one of the faces of #catsofbrexit; he’s kind of a big deal.
I was in Hebden Bridge today (beautiful) for work and there was a man feeding the ducks and the pigeons and they were on his hands and I parked up and took a pic. I just loved it.
He’s obviously a local hero; he’s making sure the ramblers don’t disturb the nests and ducklings under the bridge.
This is a Kinder Egg demon-type-thing surveying our holiday apartment block in Portugal. I used it to put on my suitcase to identify it on the conveyor at the airport but it became a fellow holidaymaker thanks to my imaginative little one.
Spotted this marvellous specimen at a car boot sale in France today. He’s pissed, obviously, and clearly thinks he can drive that tree. His miniscule pet otter despairs. Captain Badger never recovered from the discovery that all his scenes had been cut from The Animals of Farthing Wood.
My cat, Stockwell, has an umlaut, or a colon, depending on which way you look at it.
A bumble bee feasting at dusk on nectar from a patch of balsam flowers near my house. Himalayan Balsam is considered an invasive species in Britain but no one seems to care what happens on the edges of canals. And besides, the bees love it.
Thanks to insects, many of the apple-scented flowers have now turned into those bulging, torpedo-like seed pods – they’re spring-loaded and ready to explode as summer ends.
Worst time to drop your phone, ever.
I never tire of looking up to see what’s above me. The skies I see from my back door are glorious and are at their most impressive just before dawn or at sunset. This picture is Tuesday night’s sunset. There’s quite a lot of dust in the air from the harvest and it seems to make everything glow just that little bit more.
I was just reminded what the Edinburgh Fringe is like. Not as a punter where it’s, for me, lots of laughing and nailing my daily step goals by lunchtime. More the up and down-ness of being a performer there.
I did some newer, precious, baby jokes in a hot, slightly odd room and the audience were either passing out/bored/didn’t think I was funny. Confidence in newer, precious, baby jokes is now shot to shit. BUT, as it’s the Edinburgh Fringe, I got to try the bairns again, three hours later and that audience thought they were hilarious. Ah but which audience is right, I hear you ask, even though I don’t remember asking your opinion.
The ones that were laughing were right. Always the ones that were laughing.
After rain and grey skies in Edinburgh last week, I’m back home to glorious sunshine. It’s harvest time here in rural Leicestershire. And I feel like a lazy slob for watching the Olympics while this is going on outside.
I was taking photos of my daughter and accidentally swapped the camera view. I caught a 34-year-old with two jobs and an energetic five-year-old, whose husband is working away and who hasn’t slept properly in weeks. This is me, right now.
Lakeside brew stop at the Bluebird Cafe. Mid five-hour round trip, took a break from sweating in the tin box on wheels. Feasted my eyeballs on Coniston Water, in the Lake District; summer was happening. On the podium it’s a gold for views, sweat gets a silver.
I took this walking over the bendy bridge near the Tate Modern today.
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