It was whilst we were at Matthew's house the other weekend (Coldplay's concert) that I spied a large cardboard box in the middle of his kitchen with the words 'Family Photos' scribed in my mother's hand. I was over to the box in a trice and pulled out an album.
Oh the absolute joy - I hadn't seen these photographs in years. "Oh Anthony," I exclaimed, "this is like treasure to me!" There I was in various stages of my life..
..toddler-hood (with kittens in my pocket)
Look at the wallpaper in this photo, it's true vintage rosy goodness.
And then a new brother arrived every year or two.
This was my first ever knitted creation - though I seem to remember the teacher did most of it!
Our first day at school here in Devon. I just love my mother's shadow in the corner and realised I would recognise it anywhere.
But what thrilled me more was the discovery of an old album of photographs of the hotel I lived in from the age of 9 until I left home at 17. The Palace Hotel. The hotel I call home. They were taken by an elderly man who used to do odd jobs around the hotel but loved photography and was always taking photos.
There are pictures of most of the reception rooms, some bedrooms and a few members of staff, and even photos of me posing by the pool etc. I remember having to pose for them and hating every minute of it but oh my, I'm so, so grateful for everyone of those cringe worthy photos now because they have changed the hotel inside and out and the lovely gardens are no more.
So a small handful of the photo albums have come back home with me, rather than go into Matthew's attic. And they will be poured over by me with delight and the odd tear for the days gone by.