The House of the Eccentric Photographer
A cold crisp morning, maps in hand and a drive over the Moors to this location. 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. I had some information about this house but not too much and wasn't sure if my postcode was correct to the exact point. Luckily it was spot on and as I made my way down a little track I could see the stonework of the exterior as it caught the first rays of the weak morning sun.
Inside the house was a myriad of left behind posessons and I quickly giot the impression the last owner collected things. A basket of vintage matchboxes in one corner, vintage war equiment in another. Plaques nailed to the walls of the staircase. Not ony 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 fascinatin to dig deeper. Old letters left on the messy bed. Vntgae 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 machne still in nice condition juxtaposed against the crumbling bedrom wall. The first hint of a lady's existence in the house.
Not ony 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 vintgae 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 cataplulted into the past-present.