The Grandfolks are, well… grand. Both Grandpa and Grandma have recovered from a tough year of varying illnesses and have been swimming in the sea and generally disregarding their age on all accounts. A shining example to us all, they are no less adventurous now than they were more than my life’s years ago.
Grandma humoured me in laying out all her Liberty print shirts, most older than I, and a few other patterned gems. Much gentile perplexity at my Iphone, which I would randomly hold in front of day-to-day objects to capture their image and exclaim at their beauty or interest.
To me, these objects are little windows into a past I never lived through- whereas to my grandparents I am just taking photos of their bathroom wall or old curtains. I know it tickled Grandma, though I’m not sure she understood why I was doing it.
My brother and I returned to an old childhood haunt to walk in around two hours what took us an entire day when we were children. I really must be a grown up now. The banks we walked along were made up of a warm yellow clay from which I fashioned a marble, hardened and dried between finger and thumb. A reminder of the place.
Now that I have returned to Edinburgh, my home for so many years, I cast my eyes over my trinkets and wonder if my granddaughter will one day exclaim over their beauty or if they will ever even last that long. (or if I will have a granddaughter… too many ifs).
Tomorrow.
Two studio visits! One down at the bottom of Easter Road and the other over in Canonmills. This time tomorrow I will be at work in the basement bar of the Traverse but I’ll have a better sense of my life one way or the other.
Bellow, a few of said photographs from the Grandfolks.
The colour seemed to not have faded over the years, though I cannot vouch for their comfort
