On How Life Was
A bit of a disclaimer: as I was trying to explain to a certain Mr Cavalier several threads back, this is not intended to be a serious blog and it certainly isn't trying to make any kind of serious point (except possibly in relation to pop music, which, obviously, is an extremely serious topic.) I am also aware that blogs are not the greatest place for emotion. But I am going to break the rules just this once so, as they say in football, if you don't want to see the result, look away now...
I spent the weekend in glorious Somerset doing wonderfully little (there not being a vast amount to choose from) and I came across a huge bag of photos, loose and in albums, which my parents had liberated after my grandma died and it struck me how precious a find this was. They chronicle our family from the 1930s right up until the present day, and I wonder what anybody else might make of them, what impression they might give if you're distanced from it all. If I was famous, or from some greatly distinguished family, they're the kind of things you'd publish and lots of people would pay good money for them. But I'm not, and they won't, and I'm not even going to put them up on the blog, partly because I'm technologically inept, and partly because nobody will give a damn if I do. Why after all would other people want to see photos of families of kids outside terraced houses in uncomfortable-looking jumpers, or photos of groups of us crammed into various small living rooms eating off paper plates? There are also a disproportionate number of photos of first communions and confirmations, of bored little girls in white dresses and veils and rosaries hung over their clasped hands, looking decidely unimpressed, and lots of my Aunty Kath standing next to various members of Catholic clergy looking piously smug. It was also funny how the same clothes appeared over the space of a decade or so on various different family members (this includes wedding dresses, which doubled as wedding dresses, confirmation dresses and baptism gowns.) The other interesting thing about old photos is that it reminds you of what dreadful taste your family had in wallpaper and curtains. You think Changing Rooms is cringe-inducing? We used to have orange curtains and carpet in our lounge, which made it look a bit like an Easyjet waiting room. I found some gorgeous pictures of my grandmother on the beach at Scarborough, looking as though she was trying to look like Ingrid Bergman, then some less glamorous ones of her in her waitress uniform, and later her care home uniform, then lots of photographs of my grandma with various old ladies in tow invariably eating fish and chips.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this one, except to point out, because this is the kind of cheerful mood I'm in today, that life sucks.
Am planning an evening in involving me, the Smiths, old photos and alcohol.
I spent the weekend in glorious Somerset doing wonderfully little (there not being a vast amount to choose from) and I came across a huge bag of photos, loose and in albums, which my parents had liberated after my grandma died and it struck me how precious a find this was. They chronicle our family from the 1930s right up until the present day, and I wonder what anybody else might make of them, what impression they might give if you're distanced from it all. If I was famous, or from some greatly distinguished family, they're the kind of things you'd publish and lots of people would pay good money for them. But I'm not, and they won't, and I'm not even going to put them up on the blog, partly because I'm technologically inept, and partly because nobody will give a damn if I do. Why after all would other people want to see photos of families of kids outside terraced houses in uncomfortable-looking jumpers, or photos of groups of us crammed into various small living rooms eating off paper plates? There are also a disproportionate number of photos of first communions and confirmations, of bored little girls in white dresses and veils and rosaries hung over their clasped hands, looking decidely unimpressed, and lots of my Aunty Kath standing next to various members of Catholic clergy looking piously smug. It was also funny how the same clothes appeared over the space of a decade or so on various different family members (this includes wedding dresses, which doubled as wedding dresses, confirmation dresses and baptism gowns.) The other interesting thing about old photos is that it reminds you of what dreadful taste your family had in wallpaper and curtains. You think Changing Rooms is cringe-inducing? We used to have orange curtains and carpet in our lounge, which made it look a bit like an Easyjet waiting room. I found some gorgeous pictures of my grandmother on the beach at Scarborough, looking as though she was trying to look like Ingrid Bergman, then some less glamorous ones of her in her waitress uniform, and later her care home uniform, then lots of photographs of my grandma with various old ladies in tow invariably eating fish and chips.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this one, except to point out, because this is the kind of cheerful mood I'm in today, that life sucks.
Am planning an evening in involving me, the Smiths, old photos and alcohol.
posted by RLS at 9:46 am
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