Reminiscence

Last year I blipped an ancient image of my parents' neighbours in wartime Wales and now it, and some other photographs I put online, have been spotted by someone who has contacted me to say that she's the great-granddaughter of the farmer in the picture. He owned the small farmhouse my parents rented for 5/- a week to escape the London blitz and to live a simple country life on not much money and much hard graft. They were never happier than during those years.

Since today's weather defies description I have spent the time scanning old photos of the place for Charlie's GGD and I thought I'd use a few of them for a blip - I know it's bending the rules a bit. Anyway, top right is the little house tucked into a cleft between two hillsides: it was in shadow for 3 months during the winter until in mid February the first ray of sunshine touched the chimney. In the middle are my father and mother (I had yet to join them) and above they're in the farmyard: he's interacting with  a calf while she's doing the laundry, by hand of course, tub perched on a cider cask. Below she's hanging out the wash behind the house - all those snowy sheets just waiting for the cows to come and play havoc with them.

It's all a very long time ago but the ashes of the past are always with us and sometimes the embers start to glow if the oxygen of memory wafts their way.