The House of the Eccentric Photographer, Brinscall
A cold crisp morning and the car warmed to maximum and my music blaring out I made my way carefully over the winding roads careful not to take the little hair pin bends too fast. As I made my way down the steep road I could see the stonework of the exterior as it caught the first rays of the weak morning sun. I'd seen this house the previous week and today was time to go inside to see what delights lay inside.
Inside the house was a myriad of left behind possessions and I quickly got the impression the last owner collected things. A basket of vintage match boxes in one corner, vintage war equipment in another. Plaques nailed to the walls of the staircase. Not only a person who liked to collect things but obviously a keen photographer. Albeit Canon, I delighted in this old photography gear left behind, carefully inspecting it, fuelling my fascinating to dig deeper. Old letters left on the messy bed. Vintage cigarette tins and tobacco tins carefully arranged on a bedroom table. A collector of things along with a need to display them with precision. The U.S flag was strange to see although some letters were from America so maybe the owner had some ties with the States in some form.
The obligatory vintage Singer Sewing machine still in nice condition juxtaposed against the crumbling bedroom wall. The first hint of a lady's existence in the house.
Not only a photographer and a collector of things but also a lover of rock music, as demonstrated by the home made wall hanging. A plethora of patches sown on to a large piece of cloth along with vintage pin badges of The Scorpions and Judas priest amongst others. This reminded me of my youth. Mine may have been Simple Minds or Visage but never the less the memories came flooding back. My youth catapulted into the past-present.