I had spent two days bouncing between departments in hospital as various health professionals tried to work out why my chest was so painful. I'd been prodded, starved, scanned, x-rayed and prodded some more and then finally told I had pneumonia with a lovely added bonus of pleurisy. I was feeling pretty fragile and sorry for myself as I left the building but I couldn't help noticing the porter in front of me in the corridor who had an 808 State tattoo. I mentally told myself not to say anything but found myself tapping him on the arm and telling him he had a cool tat as I walked past. He pulled up his sleeve and told me his whole arm was dedicated to Manchester and Northside was coming next. I asked him if I could photograph his arm on my phone for the MDMArchive and he agreed, telling me he was "Tommy, a porter", to which his colleague across the hall called out "No, he's Tommy THE porter."
It's not a great photo but I was feeling pretty shite. That said, Tommy really made my day so I'm pleased I stopped to talk to him.
ARTEFACT ADDED ON 25.01.2017 BY