I wandered down to "The Itchy Pig" tonight. There I drank two and a half pints of Abbeydale "Heathen" and had a nice chat with Alan who is a significant figure in the local CAMRA group. CAMRA stands for Campaign for Real Ale. It is a national organisation. They act as a pressure group for beer drinkers and a source of information about real ales and the local pub scene.
Because of this, all that I have for you tonight is a picture of me taken by my father in 1957 when I was four years old. I am on my tricycle eating an apple. Beyond me is the field that was adjacent to our garden. I remember being in that field at harvest-time and sitting happily with two farm workers in the sunshine drinking sweet coffee from an enamel mug. Between 1963 and 1964, the field became a large building site and a private housing estate grew up there.
Dad was a pretty keen amateur photographer and even had his own dark room where he could develop and print his own pictures. I was the only one of his four sons who showed the slightest interest in this process and when I was about ten he taught me the rudiments of this alchemy. How magical it was to see one's pictures emerging in the chemical fixing bath under a red light.
He died in September 1979 and even now I think of him every day and still miss him. Mourning is never over and done with in a week or two. It can go on forever.
You look to have been a solid little chap!
ReplyDeleteI learned to develop photos in technical college and alchemy is the way I felt about it, too.
Your parents were obviously great people and I'm not surprised you miss your Dad
It's only afterwards that one realises how lucky one was - to be fed, to be loved, to be nurtured, to be safe, to have avoided physical chastisement,
DeleteGreat photo that shows much about life at that time. The clothing although, very nice shows another age. I like the way you ate around the apple. It's cool to find such photos tucked away. We haven't looked at them for a while and they bring back good memories.
ReplyDeleteMaybe you should get them out and have a nice chinwag about them.
DeleteAdorable photo! We never stop missing our fathers; mine died two years ago and I still want to discuss books, politics and life with him. He was such a funny, wise and intelligent man. What is a real ale? I need to know so that I can verify that the amber ales I'm drinking are legit.
ReplyDeleteIt is a beer which is "brewed from traditional ingredients, matured by secondary fermentation in the container from which it is dispensed, and served without the use of extraneous carbon dioxide". (CAMRA)
DeleteReal ale is extremely rare in the U.S. according to my research. However, there is a place near Seattle that serves it and stranger yet, I've actually been there! https://www.machinehousebrewery.com/tasting-room/
DeleteMy father was not a religious person. He said that as long as someone is thought about after their death they live on. Your father is lucky you think of him every day.
ReplyDeleteI believe that that is the only after life that any of us will enjoy.
DeleteNice picture of a happy little boy who needs a bigger bike! A shame the field had to go for housing, but people do need to live somewhere.
ReplyDeleteMy village was home to 350 souls when I was born. Now it has a population of 2500.
DeleteTotally agree YP. Grieving can go on forever. I still think of things I want to show my parents but they are gone. I would love the real ales.
ReplyDeleteI would love to sink a pint or two with you in "The Itchy Pig". We could zigzag home singing about sweet Molly Malone... or JayCee.
DeleteWas your tricycle also called Clint?
ReplyDeleteIn those days I didn't give my vehicles names.
DeleteI guess I am not the only one who will comment on an unmistakable family likeness between you and little Phoebe. This is a nice picture, worth framing. Or how about making a calendar with old family photos as a Christmas gift for your children and their growing families?
ReplyDeleteYou are right about mourning. The rawness of the first grief may be long gone, but we still think of our loved ones a lot and miss them dearly, sometimes felt more intensely than at other times.
A small surprise for me in your post was to read that the field workers were drinking coffee. In my mind, the cliché sticks that the English have always been tea drinkers more than coffee. I seem to remember having read somewhere that only about 20 years ago did they, on average, drink more coffee than tea for the first time. (Who comes up with such statistics anway?)
You still look the same! Grief is endless it seems. We carry it with us for the rest of our lives.
ReplyDeleteI think my tricycle was bigger than yours, but I hated the pedal pushing car my brother had, it was so difficult to pedal.
ReplyDeleteI was about 10 when my father built a darkroom in the corner of the garage. I practiced that alchemy for about a decade - only parted with the equipment 5 years ago. I miss it. There is something magical about manipulating light to create a permanent image. I think of my father when I see airplanes.
ReplyDeleteI wonder what my life would be like if I had had a father. Probably different. That's all I know.
ReplyDeleteYou look so serious and mature in that picture- almost like you had the face of a teenager on a four year old's body. That hair!
You're right about mourning. My father has been dead more than fifty years and my mother nearly that long and there are still times I miss them.
ReplyDeleteAs soon as I saw the photo of you sitting on your tricycle I thought of a childhood memory of me on my tricycle at about the same age. I have a vivid memory of riding my tricycle up and down my long driveway collecting leaves, (which in my child's imagination were my groceries.) It remains my happiest childhood memory and it flashes into my head with regularity. There's just something about one's 'first ride'.
ReplyDeleteYou were a nice little lad YP.
ReplyDeleteMany years ago, I took a black and white photography class that included developing our own photos. Apparently I showed some aptitude as well and the instructor gave me an old darkroom setup. At the time, I was living in an apartment and never had a space to create my own darkroom. By the time I finally had a house with space enough for a darkroom, digital camera had long ago taken over. I ended up passing on the darkroom setup to someone else who was interested in the parts for some project other than developing photos.
ReplyDeleteYour father's talent was passed on.
ReplyDeleteAnd, cute picture, Chubby Cheeks!
Losing someone never gets better, but it does get easier.
ReplyDeleteMy dad had a darkroom too. It WAS magical to see prints emerge. I could never be bothered to process my own pictures, though, even when I shot film.
ReplyDelete