I have no idea why I kept this. Its a picture of my class from the first day of 'big school' 21 years ago. I found it amongst a pile of pictures that I rescued from The Ex (you won't be surprised to know that all trace of me, and my family have been excised from the former marital home with surgical precision. First-born wasn't pleased.)
And so there you have me. Aged 11. Thankfully I've grown into the ears somewhat and whoever was responsible for cutting my hair has been suitably punished. But I wonder what was going on behind those eyes. What were my hopes and dreams? I think I variously wanted to be an astronaut, journalist or cartoonist, but I can't really remember. I find that my memories only last 4 or 5 years, and then turn into stories, so I can't remember the memory itself, just the story of it.
And I wonder what Newly Single circa 1983 would make of his 2004 incarnation. Probably impressed with all the toys, but not impressed with the failure to see the world (preferably from 100 miles up, through the window of a pressurised tin can.)
I love looking at these old photos and wondering what happened in the days/weeks/months after the photo was taken. What the people in the photo were thinking. What they did with their lives.
Which is why I'm a bad conversationalist when I pop into my local pub, the walls are covered with photos of the regulars from the last 200 years. The results of last night's football game pale compared to what the imagination can conjure up from an old photo.
