{Never quite managing to see the whole picture. A new postcard collage created on a postcard sent from Camilla. (Thank you C.)}
When I think of my secondary school years, I think of awkwardness, suppressed laughter in the classroom, raucous laughter in the quadrangle, the long distance to cover from art class studios to history department, and a comfortable school blazer that among many secrets held in its pockets a small white plastic-toothed comb and locker key. When I think of my years spent studying classical ballet, I think of hairspray canisters, change rooms, warm-up exercises, the crunch of rosin, and my teacher demurely spitting in her palm in order to smooth with her hand the wisps of hair framing my face.
When I think especially of my primary school years I generally draw a blank. What I remember of these years is coloured and informed by photographs in albums and stories recounted. There are things I know about my primary school years but I cannot say I actually remember learning Greek words on the blackboard one at a time nor jumping the makeshift pommel horse in the hall during sport. Nonetheless, if I think long enough things come to mind: monkey bars to dangle from, and manes of hair to compare whilst upside down, muesli bars to munch or trade, and much talk of pets and toys and families and after school activities. A ubiquitous list of things recalled that could belong to any one.
When I think of the beach in those years I remember it brilliant, blue, and largely unpeopled. Before a storm, it would look like a sheet of grey glass broken only by one or two swimmers. There was an old pier to play in and pretend you were a sea fairy or sheltering maiden in modest togs. There were windsurfers and dog walkers and there was us, school kids at the beach at the end of our street. Living no longer within walking distance of the beach, I miss it.
Today however, catching a crowded tram home teeming with school kids, I cannot really say I miss those days. What is that saying about looking back too often? Something about falling backwards down the stairs if you turn your head too often. Best keep the head screwed forward, eyes fixed ahead. It is a long way down.
+ Lately I have received many wonderful things in the post and the consequent smile has been one reaching left to right ear and back again. From extra treats included with a 2010 calendar order from Camilla to ephemeral beauty from Frips and postcard joy and chocolate from Kristi, you can expect to see more here soon.
+ Hop, Skip and a Jump, Louise shares more photos of our work at the gallery. (Our exhibition draws to a close this Saturday.)
+ (Temporary) Abandonment, the sting of neglect.
