Photographing food & bins, living the dream

In a turnaround of the usual state of affairs whereby I'd be off galavanting with the Socks and the schools all over the country leaving Hev at home, this week I find myself with the flat to myself while Hev looks after her folks in North Wales for a short time. And while I busy myself writing Bananamans (yes that is the plural) and sending off Socks tour flyers, I've managed to distract myself with a couple of firsts.

I don't think I've ever photographed a plate of food before. Indeed the subject was in the news last week when a restaurateur forbade diners from photographing his dishes and I thought why would anyone even bother? Well, here's the reason. To show your other half what she's missing. I haven't got the hang of half portions yet, and so devoured salmon steaks and an omelette that would easily have fed two. And that's not all I've photographed for the first time.

I've definitely never photographed the contents of my bin before, but today was driven to it when the recycling lorry came and went, leaving our food recycling untouched. Why was that I wondered? Can you guess? I thought it might be something to do with the eggs (past useby date but uncracked). But no. The answer came from North Somerset Council via Facebook:

"They aren't allowed to bang the bins on the side of the vehicle to dislodge anything that's stuck in the bottom, as that often breaks the lid."

So, a trip to the tip in my soon to be stinky car beckons. The slight madness that being alone in the house  brings on, and which is quite different from being in strange hotels on my own, reminds me of this week's episode of Inside Number 9: Tom & Gerri. If you've not been watching this incredible TV series by Steve Pemberton & Reece Shearsmith then you must, it's the best new writing I've seen on TV this year.