I was about thirty years old when we lived in a big, old house. It was a full two storey place with a full, walk-up attic. So it was pretty high at the top and needed painting, but I didn't then and still now don't love ladders. Fortunately, neither did my neighbour, but he was an old hand who knew enough to order scaffolding rather than use a ladder to paint his place. When he was done, I continued to rent the stuff for mine. Although I didn't exactly love the scaffolding either, I could tolerate it ... and could even pretend for the benefit of the camera that I was confident and happy up on the roof, and I was actually doing okay to be honest. On the other side of the house, I even managed to replace the eavestroughing (gutters) all by my little, old self, and for those who know me that's a remarkable feat.
As I contemplate these old pictures, I am struck by the fact that I am a different person in them. I think that as we, or at least I, go through life, we think of ourselves as the same person now as we were then, only modified slightly. However, seeing the scaffolding and me on the roof and also looking pretty darn young in some of the old photos that I've been sorting through, I am now thinking that it's more than that. Perhaps, we're not simply modifications of our former selves but somewhat different beings, the one evolving, or perhaps mutating from the other, of course. I don't know if that's quite what I mean to say or how I mean to say it, but I imagine that you friends understand what I'm driving at.