The better question is not how I would describe myself, but how would other people describe me? 

The woman in the queue at the bank the other day would have described me as an impatient, grumpy old man.

The man in the white Fiat on the A19 said I was a f%#£& idiot. 

My neighbours say I’m a Teessider in Geordie Land who supports a rubbish football team.

My work colleagues would say I was an arty person who was passionate about his subject and who espoused his feelings publicly at times.

My ex-pupils have said I was a great teacher who loved his subject and who was funny and kind.

People in my educational field have said I am an expert, who has helped thousands of teachers all around the world teach art better in schools.

My friends would (hopefully) say I’m a funny, loyal, trustworthy person. A talented musician and author. 

My best friend knows I love him. He would say I am a loyal friend who would do anything for him. He would say I am good laugh and have some great stories to tell.

My in-laws would say I’m a creative person. An artist and loving husband who loves his garden, but who know some things about me that aren’t always rosy.

I would hope my children would say I’m a devoted, giving, loving father. An exhibitionist, who loved having fun with them when they were little. Someone who is always there for them, night or day. Someone who never shouted or got angry. Someone who tried to instil in them the importance of education and learning. They would have some tales and stories of my crazy escapades, but also describe times when I’ve emotionally hurt them.

My wife would say I am sensitive, faithful, honest, loving, kind and funny. But also someone who can be difficult, moody, and troubled. Hopefully, she knows she could depend on me and that I’d give her my last breath. 

The mark of me as a person is not in how I see myself, but how I’m seen through the lens of others’ eyes.