The punch tree

1. A couple of days ago I was thinking about a family picnic we had at the beach. Today, I took the pictures to the place that I think must be - more or less - the exact spot we sat on about 30 years ago. It's the same kind of day - perfect for a picnic. I don't remember why we were there, the four of us. I don't know what prompted the special occassion. I do remember the taste of those crisps, the feel of the fabric of that skirt my mum was wearing and the excitement of being out and about with mum and dad.

2. I brought other pictures with me today for similar experiments. I had such a good time. I went to the playpark where we grew up, minutes from the picnic place. Taking the pictures of pictures in the exact location just 30 years later made me laugh out loud. In every one I am upside down. I seemingly spent my childhood cartwheeling.

3. Up the hill to dad's grave. Always an inspriation.

4. Onwards, round the bends to Barrhill. I cut off early and drive into Kildonan. I'm not sure what's happening here now. I park up and notice a van, but no other signs of anything. This is where my mum and dad got married, where my mum went to school and where, well a short walk along the Avenue, my grandparents lived when we were growing up. I walk along to South Lodge and smile and nod to the punch tree. It's still there.

5. A paddle in the river under the blue metal bridge. Just standing, very still. Not a sound, nothing stirring. Bare feet in the cool, dark water.