Clowning around

Sometimes I get stupidly bored. When that combines with depression it can either lead to screaming and getting people to knock me around...or it can lead to dressing up like a clown. You know those days where you get in from work, you sit down, someone suggests you put on some makeup and you progress from there. I know I should be ashamed, or embarrased, but I'm really not. It cheered me up. It still does. Here's a couple of my favourite pics:

I never used to be this type of person. No one would have dreamed of it. Maybe something snapped inside, maybe I've always been this way but I've never set myself free...maybe, just maybe I made myself look like a tool and enjoyed it. We may never know.

What we do know is that the neighbours weren't expecting us to be like that when they came round to tell us that the back gates had blown off and that one of them was going away for the weekend as his mother has just died. You try sitting there with a straight face as someone tells you that, surrounded by clowns. Not such a pussy thing to do now is it?