All of which leads me to tell you about the horror that was ... my photo shoot. About two months ago, I realised that the book needed an author photo so I tried taking some shots myself. I just looked like some old perv with a pout (see below).
Then Dawn had a go and somehow the camera made me look like a pensioner. I'd have asked my brother Simon as he's an amazing photographer. But he's also 350 miles away in Cornwall. So, instead, I asked another professional. Andy Nimmons is an old friend who runs his own photography business - North Kent Weddings.
Andy was great. He took me out into St James's Park near Buckingham Palace because the light was so nice and we tried lots of shots in different poses and locations. Anyone who says that models have easy lives is talking out of their capacious bottoms. It's hard work. I was soon sweating like a pig in a sausage factory. Andy made me feel as relaxed as I could be in such odd circumstances but, no disrespect to his photography, I looked like a tit in every shot. Plus, because I have sensitive eyes, I was squinting so much that my face was in danger of imploding. Sunglasses would just have increased the tit-factor by 100.
The situation was made all the worse by the parties of kids who kept walking past and taking photos of me too. I guess they saw a guy having his photo taken by a man with a camera the size of a small car and reckoned I must be famous so they took their own photos on the off-chance.