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avevale_intelligencer) wrote2011-09-02 04:09 pm
avevale_intelligencer) wrote2011-09-02 04:09 pm
Part fung
On a previous visit Jan had noticed that her mother had a drawerful of loose photographs of all ages and sizes, and had resolved to organise them for her. So when we steeled ourselves and went to her house that afternoon, we were armed with photo albums and sticky labels.
We ran into a problem pretty quickly.
"Who's that?" we said.
"I don't know," said the DC.
"When was it taken?"
"I've got lots of mates, you know," said the DC.
"Was it in Bradford?"
"She had a friend who married someone down south," said she.
"She who? Who is it?"
"That was before the war." (We'd guessed that bit.)
Perm any three of four, multiply by several hundred and repeat. And this was with the hearing aid in.
Eventually, using my l33t sk1llz at facial comparison, we managed to identify about three-quarters of the pictures as to principal participants or rough year, and by the end of the evening we'd managed to get about thirty into an album and labelled. The rest remain to this day, in envelopes awaiting their fate, unless she's had them all out and shoved them back in the drawer again. I wouldn't put it past her. I will admit that my spirits were not raised by the discovery, at about half past ten, that there was another drawer of the same size full of pictures she hadn't mentioned, also completely mixed up.
The rest is swiftly told. We went back to Maureen's, slept, woke, had breakfast, bade her a genuinely fond farewell interspersed with promises of a return and/or reciprocatory visit, dropped in on the DC to say goodbye (I noticed the hated hearing aid was lying on a pile of papers from which it could be conveniently knocked off and lost under a cupboard, but it didn't seem worth saying anything) and drove carefully home, battling the distraction of the damned flashing red light which still hasn't stopped flashing. And there you have it, as Freddie Mercury sang. Altogether four days with which I could have done something more useful, more pleasant, and definitely less expensive.
And now, having un-burdled myself, I'm going to lie down again.
We ran into a problem pretty quickly.
"Who's that?" we said.
"I don't know," said the DC.
"When was it taken?"
"I've got lots of mates, you know," said the DC.
"Was it in Bradford?"
"She had a friend who married someone down south," said she.
"She who? Who is it?"
"That was before the war." (We'd guessed that bit.)
Perm any three of four, multiply by several hundred and repeat. And this was with the hearing aid in.
Eventually, using my l33t sk1llz at facial comparison, we managed to identify about three-quarters of the pictures as to principal participants or rough year, and by the end of the evening we'd managed to get about thirty into an album and labelled. The rest remain to this day, in envelopes awaiting their fate, unless she's had them all out and shoved them back in the drawer again. I wouldn't put it past her. I will admit that my spirits were not raised by the discovery, at about half past ten, that there was another drawer of the same size full of pictures she hadn't mentioned, also completely mixed up.
The rest is swiftly told. We went back to Maureen's, slept, woke, had breakfast, bade her a genuinely fond farewell interspersed with promises of a return and/or reciprocatory visit, dropped in on the DC to say goodbye (I noticed the hated hearing aid was lying on a pile of papers from which it could be conveniently knocked off and lost under a cupboard, but it didn't seem worth saying anything) and drove carefully home, battling the distraction of the damned flashing red light which still hasn't stopped flashing. And there you have it, as Freddie Mercury sang. Altogether four days with which I could have done something more useful, more pleasant, and definitely less expensive.
And now, having un-burdled myself, I'm going to lie down again.