Who is this woman in my passport pictures?
I am nothing like my photographs. Or wait a minute, perhaps that should be my photographs are nothing like me.
Specifically, I am talking about those frightening head and shoulders jobs needed for passports, passes and other identification.
On the whole those which come my way are images of an elderly person with a haircut which looks as though it has never seen a hairdresser let alone a good one, staring eyes and, a sort of terror stamped across the face.
Who is this person for goodness sake?
Whoever it is, I have acquired a rare collection of her 'snaps horribilis,' all of which are designed to scare. The worst was the last passport picture taken when I had been ill and had to dash to Liverpool to get the thing renewed before flying to Botswana. A friend was so concerned for my health that she insisted on taking me.
The passport place machine was broken and we ended up at Asda or somewhere down the street. The result was even more peculiar. I'd never have allowed me out of the country.
Now, I've just had to plod along to yet another photo booth, balance on an adjustable stool which doesn't adjust and have a bossy lady describe in very-slow-speak, the art of the perfect photo.
For a passport, the rules are strict. No glasses, no hats – as if – and definitely no smiles. However, this particular illustration was for a sporting pass, replacing an earlier, dismal attempt so I kept my glasses on and experimented with the smile.
First we had a lopsided grin which came from goodness knows where, then an idiotic smirk which had nothing to do with me and I finally settled on a sort of frank and fearless but elegant half smile. Though it didn't look very elegant when the mock-up appeared on the screen.
In this booth, apart from legs belonging to passing shoppers below the half-curtain, I picked up scraps of conversation including a woman confiding to her friend that she's never had a good picture from them there places in her life. Come on in, love, join the party.
When my five quid's worth of snaps finally fell from the wonder machine, it was snatch, grab 'em and run before anybody else spotted the unlikeness. If you wonder why I didn't illustrate this reflection with some of the luckless snaps, the answer is simple: I haven't a clue who they are!
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