Everything I read is telling me that portraits work best between 55 and 70mm focal length. But when I set my lens to 55mm, to get much of my face in the shot would require the sort of freakishly long arms that would earn me good money in a travelling circus showing off my talent for touching my toes without bending over. There’s not much of my face I can fit in without morphing into some weird looking alien kinda thing. And focussing? Aye right! I resorted to growling at my stinking beloved camera. I quite enjoy insulting inanimate objects,  especially belligerent ones (I suspect these two states are mutually exclusive but ykwim?).

This is as far away from my face as I could get with my unfreakishly short arms and remain vaguely recognisable as me for iHeartFaces self-portrait week. Yeah – I am swearing at gently cajoling my camera – can’t you tell?

Incidentally this is majorly big in the steps type thing as I have spent considerable energy over the last 15 years avoiding being photographed at all costs having knitted cooked myself 60lbs. At first I would simply run away but as I gradually lost the ability to respond like lightning for fear of dropping my sandwich I had to be more creative with finding things I could shove  in front of my face (as opposed to in it). Usually a nearby portable child sufficed (as a barrier, not lunch). It dawned on me recently that if the proverbial bus got me tomorrow there would be little proof of my existence left behind. So I may as well start with a wee example of my gentle cajoling.

Talking of focal length and freaky morphed things here’s Poggy at 18mm looking, quite frankly, unlike anything I’ve ever given birth to.

Spot the difference? Nah me neither.

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