Had cause to look through some old photographs this afternoon for the new edition of “Secrets“. Wanted a break from the text a bit so just thought I’d see what I could find. Now, as the book will be bound, there will be no limitations on space, so thought I’d look through a couple of old albums (and boxes) to find some black and white ones of Italy, France and Spain. Just photographs I had taken while travelling around or working on some farm or other in the sixties I didn’t actually realise that there were so many – many, many more than the few that I’d conveniently put onto a disc around 2002 for quick reference.
It seemed strange looking at some of these again, as distant memories came to life of events that had long since faded into near oblivion. In fact, I didn’t really want to search through them at all, and been putting it off, but the photographs are necessary for the book, so look I had to.
Think I’ll use about 6 pages for photo’s which is obviously 12 full size (A5) or 24 in half-plate; whatever, that doesn’t really matter. Just sort out the sizes later.
A couple seemed to capture special memories. There was an early one of my mother and myself standing in the wilds of the country when she had visited me at school. Then there was the one of me (several in fact) feeding my pet pigeons. There were three perched on my arm and shoulder really only interested in the grain in my hand. There were more of my mother and father together. They looked so happy together; but then, maybe because many people habitually smile for the camera.
Another showed my very first girlfriend – a funny little girl nicknamed “Moppet” whose only joy in life (apart from my company, of course!) was watching “Emergency Ward 10” on ITV. We were only very young and I remember we used to sit on a bench and shyly kiss each other. Then she moved away from Highgate and we started writing. I’ve still got her old letters here . . . Somewhere!
There were many more photographs and childhood memories came flooding back, and somehow I wished I’d never started looking . . .