A little bit about me

I’ve spent some of last week thinking about my past, growing up in a family of four, one of two sons’.  I am the eldest son by 2 ½ years and spent a lot of my childhood in my room, head in a book or later on working on my computer.  My mum and dad had their hands full with my brother who, well lets say a bit of a handful.  I thought it best to keep out of the way and not cause any additional trouble.  It did not start off like that; in fact we grew up with everyone thinking we were twins, why I do not know, as we never looked alike.  I think it had something to do with the fact that our mum always dressed us in the same clothes, well almost.  I always remember feeling slightly embarrassed by it all, I know my brother hated it.  Below are a couple of photographs to prove the point.  Whether it was on holiday, going to a wedding or other family function we were dressed the same.  The only rest we got from it was at home except when we had guests around.  To this day I have no idea why and I am sure I have asked my mum why before but cannot remember the reply.

In the first one from the left to right it is my dad, Tim, my brother Matthew, my mum Judy and then me.  My dad had a beard from when I was born so you can image the shock when he shaved it off one day!

On holiday in the next one with my Nanny Fisher (left), me, Matthew and then Aunty Janet.  Don't you just love the outfits and hat?  Nanny Fisher had a cupboard under the stairs that was bigger on the inside than out and was magical.  Aunty Janet was the family hairdresser and laughed through her nose which was very funny.

This last one was taken near Slapton Sands, we were waiting to have a ride on the train.

The reason I started to think about my past was because of a comment someone made to me.  It was to the effect that I am the sort of person who crave affection which I guess means I like to be, well liked!  Well doesn’t everyone, well not outwardly no.  I have met a few people that have what can only be considered a very cold, harsh personality and who show little or no sign of compassion or feelings other than a mechanical laugher in group situations.  Anyway..........!

I don’t remember ever feeling emotionally neglected or wanting I just got on with growing up, neglect is a very strong word but you know what I mean.  As I found myself on my own from an early age I think if there was any resentment or feeling of isolation from what could be classed as a lack of my fair share of attention from my parents it was buried deep early on.  As I sit here I can honestly say that I hold no ill feeling towards my parents for what they did.  They had to do what was necessary and they did their best.  I was very lucky and I never wanted to anything yet at the same time I was not spoilt.  My dad worked so hard to provide for the family and that makes me feel proud.  Yes it meant I hardly saw him and we never had much to share with each other but it is an honour to have been part of his life and his son.  This is where my weak grasp of the English language frustrates me when I can only come up with the word honour to describe my time with my father.  He was a loving, caring and funny man full of mischief especially when things got tense or mum was having one of her melt downs in the kitchen.

I never really truly understood what my parents were like and what they did for me until later on in life and that was too late with my dad because he passed away before we could fully bond and tell each other how we felt.  The one thing my dad said to me that I will always remember, which means so much to me, was that it does not matter what I do career wise, how much money I do or do not have, he will always be proud of me.  All I had to do was try my best, be myself and do the best you can by others.  That stayed with me and will never leave me, my only regret is that I took so long to understand it enough to make a difference.

My mum stayed at home whilst I grew up yet she is just as much an enigma in my memories as my dad who was hardly there.  I guess the time spent in my room, call it my growing up box, was more secure and isolated than I realised.  The one thing that sticks in my memories of my mum was the time we spent together when she was fighting Bob.  The one piece of advice she gave me that I will take to the grave with me is to follow my passion and never let go of your desire to explore the world around me through my photography.  By the way if you do not know who Bob is, well it was a very nasty and aggressive brain tumor that took my mum from us so quickly.  For those who know me and ever wonder why I hate aggression, bullying and such like, well Bob is a large part of that reason.

You know setting myself the one hour rule for each post was possibly not the best idea, I only half way through what I wanted to say and the hour is almost up.  Well I do have 30 minutes with nothing pressing to do so I am going to break my rule, just do not tell anyone ok?

I have no idea who reads this blog and it is not really written for public consumption but if you do read it I hope you enjoy it and get something from it.  Anyway where was I?

Seeking affection and how it relates to my past.  The more I think about it the more my time spent in the pages of Biggles stories, annuals, weekly collections the more I was isolated from the world around me.  I remember being completely wrapped up in collection a weekly magazine covering all things military from planes to tanks to uniforms and guns.  I completed the collection but to this date I have no idea where it went.  I use to read and reread it time and time again.  The hours spent loading programs on to my BBC microcomputer and playing games like Elite, Revs and Knight Lore.  The hours spent programming the Beeb to make it count to 1,000 or repeat the phase “This line is the same as the next” until I hit the break key.  Yet for all the time I have spent with computers I understand less now than ever.  I think this is deliberate as they have done nothing but ruled a good 35 years of my life and I would like to put that beyond arms length for now.  I guess I could have done something about it early but never understood how too.  I wonder if I will ever feel the same way about my photography?

How different would I be if I was encouraged to come out of my room, go out to play and be more active.  Only in the last 5 or 6 years have I started to shake off the isolation, enjoy the world around me and become more active.  This is something I am not going to stop doing either and yes I guess my enthusiasm is part of me making up for lost time but can you blame me?  Yet it is lost time without any regrets and no it is not a mid life crisis, I’ve got over that one.

See what happens when I have time to think, it is time to get back to work and pause all this thinking.  Work tomorrow and I am so looking forward to it, getting back into the swing of things doing something I enjoy so much with a bunch of amazing people.

I have also decided whilst I am taking a holiday away from my distinction project I am going to return to the self portrait project.  Below are a few examples of my previous attempts.  Do some meaning soul searching through my photography.

Until next time take care.

Si x