I keep getting these emails saying 'such and such is following you on Twitter' when I'm not even on Twitter. Or at least I didn't think I was. But then I just clicked through to find out that in some moment of weakness I've actually signed up and given one update at some point in the past. Unknowingly I've joined the Twitter revolution when I don't even know what it is. I'm a twit. Apparently I can now tell people when I'm going to walk the dog etc and they can follow me. In a virtual way. And for those of you not on Twitter, I'm off to walk the dog.
These couple of photographs are relevant to nothing but I had to go through my archive for a client this morning, looking for Liverpool photographs, and I came across these two very different photographs that I liked. One is of the Hard Days Night Hotel's hoardings and the other is from the Biennial launch last year. Everyone is playing an indoor game of football at the party and this poor fella looks like he no longer wants to be a chicken.
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