Self-portrait. Taken by your correspondent from the top of the Empire State Building, March 2005.
That’s me, just to the right there, managing a combination of smile and grimace at the top of the Empire State Building. I loved that hat, but I lost it somewhere. I liked that coat too, but I left it in a hostel in Peru. I lost those sunglasses on the same trip.
Damn it.
My mum and dad named me Matthew. It took me little time to realise that was a rubbish name, and ever since it’s been universally shortened to Matt. Except for my nan; she still calls me Matthew.
Around the time I was considering life without a ‘hew’ I was probably also imagining growing up to be an astronaut, or a ninja, or some kind of super hero.
I am not a ninja
I’m not an astronaut. I’d be too scared of travelling into space. And I probably wouldn’t pass Nasa’s exams.
Nor am I a ninja, or a super hero, despite my frequent drink-induced claims.
I am, however, a web programmer. While that involves less rescuing of attractive girls than my preferred career choices, it does mean I get to muck about on the internet. More than just watching silly videos on Youtube, I mean. You know, making web sites and that.
But I’ve never liked the idea of being defined by my day job. The most interesting things happen outside the office. I can be found bouldering and rock climbing quite a lot. I’m often running around Arthur’s Seat as I try to keep my fitness up after running the Reykjavik marathon this August. And I’m a volunteer tutor for Stevenson College, teaching English as a foreign language to a fine Chinese student.
Oh, and I live in Edinburgh. Easily the greatest city in the UK. Fact. If I could get Scottish citizenship, I would. But until then, I’m an Englishman in exile.