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Carlos is not in great form at the moment.
A mixture of forgetfulness, cushions getting in the way of passports, taxmen getting in the way of all sorts of taxable things and new and old symptoms rearing their ugly heads in the gallery of mirrors of his hypochondria.
And most of all the impending big six O.

So I did the only thing that is bond to instantly cheer him up.
I asked him if he wouldn’t mind stepping in front of my camera.

He leapt.

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a splash of colour... quite literally, art, dublin, dun laoghaire, hypochondria, ireland, nostrils, photography, portrait, relativity

Boy in bloom

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art, essential parenting implements, funny, humour, hypochondria, ireland, naked, parenting

The pharmaceutical treasure chest

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Every self-respecting French household has one.
And Nana’s is no exception.

My memory of France is that people truly have a passion for “les médicaments” and while most villages have lost their butchers, bakers or cafes, la pharmacie is the last local commerce to have resisted the onslaught of the concentration of consumerism (mostly to soulless zones commerciales outside of towns).
No, the pharmacy lives on. It’s welcoming green cross easily identifiable from a distance.
A temple dedicated to the cult of les médicaments.
Pharmacies even have their own smell.

The smell of sterilisation and reassurance.

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art, bric a crap, dublin, essential parenting implements, Extraction of EUR60 from my wallet, funny, hypochondria, ireland, killer granny armed with a mini

May the smartphone be with you

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These two were clearly experiencing severe withdrawal symptoms by the time the end credits rolled, with a background of trumpetty triumphant Star Warzy theme song.

Spoiler alert! Do not read below if you do not want the many surprises of the latest Star Wars to be ruined for you! 

Ok… you asked for it…

There is a light saber fight.
Some high speed chasing with loads of wooshy sounds from the tie fighters and the x wings.
With a couple of explosions thrown in.
There are cute droids.
A bit of a love interest (but no sex scenes).
A lot of Chebaka moany groans (but not in sex scenes).
Close ups of eyes that say a lot about determination, and bravery, and tapping into the Force.
Blasters blasting like there is no tomorrow.
Outnumbered rebels in a seemingly desperate situation somehow managing to flip the situation around (thanks to their determination, and bravery, and tapping into the Force, and not wasting precious time on sex scenes).
Oh, and there is the obligatory edge-of-your-seat-totally-unexpected coup de theatre, spot on at the moment when you expect to least expect it.

Oops shite. I may have said too much.
None of you could have expected such feats of invention in a Star Wars movie.

Bad mememe2U. Bad, bad mememe2U!

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I was fortunate enough to capture Carlos at the exact moment when he located our precise position on the Radon Map.

Carlos thrives on a good health-related anxiety.

Dr Murphy, that spoilsport, managed to quash all his hopes of developing a new condition following his latest health check, and poor Carlos, after hours of unsuccessfully trawling the internet in search of exotic new symptoms that could herald a novel health scare in him, latched onto the radon hysteria like the kangaroo embryo that has just completed the climb of a vertiginously high and hairy motherly belly before finding the teat-in-the-pocket.

I sometimes wonder if Carlos and Mrs mememe2U are not Siamese twins who were separated at birth.

It’s a seamless transition between work and home.

And they both agree that I am a heartless cynic incapable of empathy.

art, dublin, hypochondria, ireland, photography, portrait

Radon-related incredulity in the cubicle farm

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