granda's cameras

In the house all day, gunkified.
These cameras on my mantlepiece were my Granda's that I got from my parent's house on Sunday. He was a gardener in crime with my Gran. A joker , sweeties always in his pockets, though he could sour and suck the life from the room. A technophile. He had the first colour tv in Port Glasgow in 1974 to watch the World Cup. He took spools of super 8 film, so I can see the younger lives of my parents. And he took photos.

Something clicks.

This love of photography passed down the generations. He had it, myself and my big cousin have it. Is that just a coincidence?

Now the shutter is open, another realisation.

This photo of me. A self-timed photo I took and hand developed myself. I can smell the developing chemicals as I slooshed the print in the trays. I remember the house myself and others did this, in Oronsay Ave. The guy wheelchair bound because he got hit by a car playing chicken. I was a scout doing my photograpy badge.

So, photography has always been around me. Fish in the ocean do not see the water they swim in. Nor have I. Till these past days. I am in my element, coming into focus.