Called in at the council offices in Goole yesterday, to renew my old guy’s bus pass. The moment I walked through the door, a young lad - maybe 4 or 5 years old - took my hand. It’s 2019; old guys are not supposed to fraternise with children; what should I have done? I said hello, but let go of his hand. He immediately grabbed my hand again. I imagine he does this to everybody (what is the current euphemism? ‘Special needs’?). I let go again… but felt ridiculous - for half a dozen different reasons - as I queued up, behind the boy’s mother, at the reception desk. I would have been perfectly happy to spend a couple of minutes with the lad; it would have been the obvious, natural thing to do. But I didn’t. And what stopped me, of course, was the fear that my actions might be misinterpreted. I may be over-thinking, creating a problem where there isn’t one. I don’t know.
My photographs, too, depict a world without children. A few kids may appear in the background of any pic; in the foreground, never (or, rather, no longer). I don’t mind being harangued by a bloke from Goole Ports Authority, as I’m photographing the docks; what I
don’t want is a one-sided conversation with an angry mother.
I have a few pix of cricket in Hartley Wintney... and they keep on selling (latest sale this morning). I suppose they illustrate the best of village life...
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