I took this photograph when I was sixteen. It shows part of our old kitchen at 73 North Street. This was the kitchen from which my brother Tony and I would broadcast our imaginary radio show on a Saturday morning (Saturday Extra on Radio Zero) but that's another story.
The picture was rediscovered this week as the family continues to uncover old treasure during our massive sort-out of the loft (an emormous undertaking, but satisfying).
For me, this photograph speaks of my deep interest in what touchy-feely people nowadays might call “the power of place”.
The image reminds me that even at the tender age of sixteen I was intrigued and fascinated by rooms and their half-forgotten corners, by staircases, cupboards, fireplaces, old brickwork. Even back then as a spotty teenager I was moved by the atmosphere of places, in love with buildings and architecture, history and heritage, old pubs, old houses, old shops, old post offices, the patterns made by streets and cul-de-sacs, the incredible richness of the urban landscape. Even then I was captivated by how villages, towns and cities had developed through the ages and by the shapes and patterns left by past generations.
All this I can see as I view this battered corner of a damp and uncared-for kitchen in a Victorian house, photographed by me in 1974.
Hi Phil,
ReplyDeleteLovely to see the original kitchen sink drama of our youth again. What a story this image tells. The collection of hot water bottles testimony to the fact that the unheated bedrooms of the house were blimmin' freezing. I like the way the hot water bottles are unashamedly on display because they would have been in regular use and needed to be to hand. The over-the-sink hot water boiler must have been a fairly recent acquisition in 1974 as, prior to that, there was no running hot water of any kind hence the consistent need to boil big saucepans and kettles, especially on bath night or on wash days. I remember playing with toy boats in this sink - a scene I recreate in my short story 'The Softness of Heads'. There must have been something about growing up in that house that has made short story writers of us both! Perhaps the fact that time had stood still, our family's lifestyle seemingly stuck in the 1950s well into the 1970s.