Oxford is such an unwelcoming city. There are signs everywhere telling you what you're not allowed to do. Don't lock your bike here. Don't even lean your bike here. Keep off the grass, keep out, don't let anyone follow you in, don't take photos, silence please.
Fortunately managed to snap a little photo of Tabitha (the most consistently noisy person in Oxford at the time) next to a sign telling her to do the impossible.
It's not my home-home, but Southampton is the first place Charlotte and I lived together, and it's our home town. I haven't been back here properly for years, and lots has changed.
Thankfully, Sanjha is still open. Their onion bhajis remain the best I've ever had, and I've still never even seen paneer pakoras anywhere else.
There's a new cinema, which has a nice moiré about it as you scroll.
And some stuff for the kid to jump on.
It's quite nice to be back, if only for a night and a day. It certainly has all the strange familiarity of visiting your home town. As much as things change, they stay the same.
Charlotte drew a marker on the wall for when Tabitha would be old enough to go on the good pier rides. She has, out of nowhere, hit that height now. Let's go dodgems!
The older Tabitha gets, the more I need to keep my eye on her when we're out. And, being honest, the more our time outside is occupied by general conversation. She's really great to talk to.
This, of course, means that I don't really walk around people-watching like I could when she was younger. Unless it's something huge happening right in my face, like this guy trying to take an ultra-low-angle portrait of his friend with an entire church steeple as the background. 10-out-of-10 for committing to the idea. It sorta looks like camera capoeira; peaceful and violent. I just wish I rolled a shallower depth of field by default. This would've benefitted from the background being less distracting.
In the unlikely event that this is you, please can I see the photo?