Saw this memory on a wall down a back street on the backside of Blackpool and it made me stop…something somewhere in the back of my mind but I cant remember what. So frustrating when you see something that’s a link to something else, it could just be another photo from another photographer but there’s a memory there somewhere. And I liked it .
Had forgotten all about this box of old letters…about 45 years worth of letters, cards and telegrams…some from family when I first left home to study and work in theater, others from friends from all over the world..many of whom I still keep in touch with though others have since died so the letters and cards are all the more precious. At the bottom of the box was happy to find a bundle of love letters tied together with string. There are little notes on the back of envelopes, scribbled love poems on cards and train tickets, others long 3 or 4 page missives, some written in pencil others in Biro or colored crayon and some in fountain pen…and hundreds of Baci Perugina wrappers, little Italian love notes written on silky transparent paper.. As I sat in the garden reading these lovely letters I wondered to myself what will the kids and grand kids say when I die and they get to read all the saucy secrets of Mamma and Papa’…maybe I should burn the letters now? No… will leave them in the box, put the ‘Letter Box’ back on top of the wardrobe and leave all our scandalous secrets for the kids to discover!
I have been helping a friend to decorate, not my favorite pastime as would much rather been on the streets shooting the unsuspecting and unusual, but am a firm believer in pay it forward and so I thought would lend a hand. Was there early morning to empty bookcases and shelves and move furniture, we tackled all the heavy jobs covering the lovely table and vintage furniture with dust covers. The last thing to do was take the framed photographs of family and friends down from the walls………....what a strange feeling to see the empty place where the memories had once hung, I was reminded of John Irving’s novel ‘A Widow for One Year’ and had to stop all thoughts of paint and masking tape to root in my bag to find my camera. The painting will be finished tomorrow and we’ll print and frame new images for the wall but the shadows of the space where the picture was will stay in my mind now even though I know next year there will be new shadows and marks made from new memories.