Oh, to be 23 again! Actually, I'm quite happy at 59, thank you very much. I'm so glad I grew up in the era that I did. Best music, best time to be a photographer etc., etc .. and, more to the point, I'd probably be accused of sexual harassment if I was photographed like this now ..
Yes, the bloody world's gone mad, hasn't it? Lesley and I were watching one of the election broadcasts the other day and the candidate kept going on about 'Cis' people. Cis, Cis, bloody Cis! "Lesley," I said. "What is a Cis person?" and Googled it after she'd given me a blank look. Reader, I'll come clean. I am a Cis person. Me! And I've been one all along, apparently. I just didn't know it. Nobody told me. I can only apologise for my actions ..
Folks, 'Cis' means ... er, how can I put this? Normal. A 'Cis' person is just a man or woman who believes they are a man or woman. That means, for me, that I'm a bloke and I fancy women. An ever-narrowing category of human being, it seems ..
What is going on when 'normal' has to be categorised by .. erm, other people. I'm reminded of a character in that fantastic film 'Things to do in Denver when you're dead'. "Hey, give it a name," he'd say. So I'm going to Dis the Cis and stick with the name I've always used. Normal ..
And I don't care what you think ..
(Quick photo explanation. These ladies in .. yes, 1983 .. had just formed a kind of better class 'Kiss-o-gram' company and I'd gone along to take a shot for the Manchester Evening News. God, how times have changed ..)
