Damn, I own some freakishly unflattering photos.
We first met on a date in the period of string ties and paisley shirts. She was a mathematical genius and I was a dippy artist.
As a couple we shared a common history of five and a half years, a tenure of turmoil, happiness and eventual indifference.
Our continued friendship faltered and then ended with her betrothal to one of my friends not too long enough after our breakup.
This photo was taken during a family holiday at a coastal caravan park where her stern matriarchal grandmother snored explosively in the same room with us every night. This may go some way to explain the lacklustre hair, or perhaps it was just another symptom of the eighties - corporate greed damning humankind to split ends and frizz.
The composition and layout all scream "mutley was here".
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