Looking Up at Yesteryear.

I need to pull myself up by the bootlaces. There’s too much arid darkness around – here, there and everywhere – and it’s draining the bloody life out of me.

(I had a long, long dream last night in which a woman for whom I have held a flame for many years came to me and said that she finally wanted to be with me. It made me very happy, and then I woke up. As we do.)

So, I thought I’d post a picture of me taken in happier times. Or were they happier?

 

This is the Mater and me feeding pigeons in Trafalgar Square. It was taken shortly after my bus driver father had decamped to his younger woman, and before my sociopathic (but relatively well off) stepfather arrived on the scene. It was the time when we were at our poorest, so how my mother managed to afford her suit and mine remains one of life’s enduring mysteries. Maybe she made them; she was a decent amateur seamstress. And I doubt any of the pigeons are still with us.