62 was the number of the house that I grew up in from birth to the age of 9. There is very little for me to grasp hold of that is “me” from that time, in order to represent it here and now. There was no [i]me[/i] back then; there was a unit called “The Twins” or “The Girls” or, occasionally, a recognised compound of two parts: Sheila-and-Elizabeth. We were dressed alike and organised into the same activities despite the fact that we were and are two very different personalities.
I would retreat into my books when I sought alone time… or disappear into the attic when I could, to help my dad in his darkroom. Photography always fascinated me but my sister could not have cared less. It was a very special time, in that attic.
Curiously, late in life, my sister has now caught the photography bug. I have to admit to finding myself resenting that. It was always something that was just mine and mine alone.
Today’s capture is of two prints, made by my dad in his attic, of “The Twins” watching Punch & Judy at Butlins, Filey. Circa 1956. I have no memory of the event or of the image processing but, who knows, I might have been the darkroom assistant helping to print them.