After my dad died in 2010, my sister was clearing out his house – the house we grew up in – and found a small suitcase in the loft.
The case was full of stuff that Mum, who died in 1999, had saved, but had never mentioned. Letters, cards, postcards, photos, programmes from shows, even things like dry cleaning receipts from when she lived in America in the early sixties.
I’m going to write about it all.
I could spend weeks trying to decide how to write about everything, in what order, etc., but then I’d never do it. So I figured the easiest method was open suitcase, stick in hand, pull out the first thing I touch.
Postcard from my dad to my mum. Pwllheli, August 1963.
‘Hiya, luv. Nothing new to report. Weather still bad (and I’m not kidding). We’re just getting used to the ale now - haven’t had a bad head since this morning. Hope the knitting is going well. Love, Harry.’
He was at Butlin’s Pwllheli holiday camp with a bunch of mates.
Not labelled, but I’m going to assume from the same trip:
I watched this video hoping to see my dad in the background somewhere - you never know! But judging by the photos above, they probably didn’t see much of the day.
Love this, all of it xxx
What a lovely idea!