Meet Laura. I was taking some photographs of the empty market stalls when she asked if I were the lady from the Helensburgh Advertiser. I had to tell her that no, I was not and she nodded to herself before telling me that once she and her dad had been out walking in Rhu when they’d stumbled upon her. Whatever it was she had been photographing, she paused to offer them the chance to have their picture taken and they’d agreed. About twenty years later, Laura shared that she wished she knew how to get a copy of that photograph because her father had died and she’d like to be able to see it. She can’t remember the date when it was taken though and so hasn’t approached the paper to ask about it. We both agreed that it might be hard to find now, but that she had a lovely memory of her dad anyway.
Laura told me that she had been to an event at the church where a violinist and a pianist had accompanied silent scenes from films on a screen. Laura had known all the films and all the songs so she had been singing along to them all. This was one example she said of how she likes to get out so that she doesn’t stagnate at home. But only if it’s not raining!
Meet Linda and Andrew, whom I met while exploring the North Pier in Blackpool. They told me that although they are local to the town, they were only really now exploring it as if they were tourists as they are retired. They’ve been married for over forty years and have always lived in the area. We agreed that I’d been very lucky with the weather even though it was all quite quiet this not being a bank holiday weekend. Linda told me that I should watch my step on the pier because it was a bit uneven and someone had once fallen through and died. I left them hoping my luck would hold.
Meet Roger and Mike. I was in Whitstable this weekend, visiting family. I had some time before we were all due to gather and celebrate one of those ‘big’ birthdays, so I took a wander around Whitstable Harbour. Roger was feeding some gulls; a family of four which included two well fed ‘babies’. He was in the middle of telling me about how this was not the first gull family in this spot, and that after the babies were fully grown, this lot would be ousted in a turf war, when another gent stopped right in front of me, looked into my eyes and said “Bob’s gone. Prostate. Thursday.” I had to tell him that I didn't know who Bob was, but Roger nodded as if he’d been told the tide would be out later. The tidings-bearer moved on, intent perhaps on spreading the news a bit farther, just part of the ebb and flow of life. We’d barely re-struck up our conversation when Mike turned up. ‘Bob’s gone’ said Roger. ‘There’ll only be us left soon.
Meet Lesley. She was busking on Dumbarton High Street, and actually about to pack up and call it a day. I’d first noticed her bright jacket against the teal blue wall behind her and stopped to say hello and ask if I could take her picture. She immediately agreed and better than that, dragged her guitar back on and gave a heartfelt rendition of Big Yellow Taxi. Lesley taught music for years and insisted that anyone could sing if they could learn to hear first. She was the highlight of my day.