Today I’m going through a load of old papers and photographs. This is quite a task because I not only own all of the correspondence and pics I have gathered over the last 31 years, but most of my mother’s, my father’s, and a substantial amount of my paternal grandmother’s as well. I have been looking for food-related stuff but it’s hard not to get sidetracked by old love letters, travel journals, letters to your MP, that sort of thing. Anyhow, I took quick snaps of a few photos that caught my eye and I thought I would share them with you here, because, well, I’m a blogger. I apologise for the low quality, I was in a bit of a hurry.
To kick off, here is a picture of me aged two-ish. I’m sat outside the Lewes Arms with my mum. The Lewes Arms is still one of my favourite boozers, and I was sat on this very spot late on Saturday night talking to some exceedingly posh festival goers. This photograph shows how far I have come in life.
Here is me aged about three looking dangerous with a milk bottle.
Me again! Proving that I was always a keen eater of crisps.
And with my little friends, I’m on the left, facing the camera, eating.
Here I am with my mum in what was my uncle Ben’s first workshop on Castle Ditch Lane in Lewes. I thought that place was so exciting: full of the smell of cut wood and loud machines. This photograph isn’t foodie but I’ve included it because it’s one of my favourites. I love the colours of my outfit and our Renaissance pose.
Here is my mum on holiday in Crete before I was born.
And here she is on that same holiday, enjoying a beef tomato. Mum always loved beef tomatoes, in summer we would often have salad caprese – with tomato, mozzarella and fresh basil – with hunks of bread to mop up the olive oil. Yum.
A Christmas shot, with my maternal grandfather on the left having what looks to be a rather heated debate with my uncle Ben. My paternal grandmother is sat on the right looking a bit out of it. I also found my uncle’s obituary for my grandfather today. It’s incredibly well put, and made me laugh out loud when I read that as the son of a ship wright from Hartlepool ‘he complained of being plagued by his middle class children.’
And here is another Christmas image of my mum gingerly offering up pud to my dad and her parents. Notice the wooden spoon rack in the background? I think this is quite a lovely coincidence because only yesterday I was absolutely smitten by the story of Barn the Spoon on Spitalfield’s Life.
Barn the Spoon hand-carves wooden spoons at his workshop in Hackney, and The Gentle Author wrote a post this week about the gorgeous spoon-rack that he installed in Leila’s cafe. Perhaps part of my attraction to this little story was a latent childhood memory.
Lastly, for now, as I am sure I will find plenty more, here is a fantastic picture that sums up what utter hell supermarket shopping can be for those who use a wheelchair.
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About Chloe King
I'm a freelance writer, designer and webby type. I live with my husband and daughter in the south of England. I like to cook and can throw a good party.
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