This guy takes photographs. Not just any photographs. He took photos that tell the story of my life.
Some even before I was even born, some with me in them.
I came across his old dark room when we were clearing out the school buildings. An Science technician there thirty years ago, he used an empty store cupboard to develop and proudly display his work.
I took what I could. I took all those images that I instantly recognised, plus a couple I just liked.
The first family holiday I can remember was to Butlins, Pwllheli. We went to this beach. That’s me running away from the water, scared. Sally often walked Daniel on this beach.
I’ve still got a VHS recording of a trip we went on at primary school to somewhere in the Lakes. On it, we were filmed walking up a mountain. This mountain. It was also Terry and Kim’s favourite place to visit.
When I was seventeen, I was approached by a drunken tramp who told me he was going to kill himself later that evening. I spent time talking to him, gave him some money, and hugged him, told him everything was going to be ok. It wasn’t, and he jumped to his death from this bridge a month after meeting me.
Later, I spent a year in Blackpool at art college. Greg and Ana loved Blackpool, reminded them of Vegas.
Then of course I came to study in Liverpool, and even now my dad sometimes visits the Port of Liverpool building for work. It’s also where Gaz stole his first phone.
Last year I visited Whitby, a beautiful resort on the east coast. This is the harbour.
I spent new year this year at a lovely secluded farmhouse, and the following day visited Conwy and fell in love with the place. Frank had also taken this photo.
Little did I know when hoarding these prints, that Frank now owns my old camera. It was stolen from my class room three years ago by a disgruntled pupil, and sold on in a nearby pub. Frank had always wanted to ‘go digital’ but had previously been too scared. He knew it must have been stolen, but it didn’t really matter. This seemed too good an opportunity to miss.
When he started playing about with the camera, he felt a bit guilty though. And he found the lad on some of the photos stored on it, strangely familiar.
He’s still taking photos, mind.
