Thought for today:
"They say that behind every picture there's a story to be told. Like me, no doubt many of you look through old photographs of yourself, some flattering and some otherwise. These images represent a snap shot of our lives at the time they were taken and they often, I feel, provide a glimpse of what we were then thinking, our prevailing mood, our attitude to life or even the expression of yet unfilled dreams.
The picture on the left is me in Toronto, Canada in 1964. At that time, I was riding high on the crest of my dreams and anything and everything seemed possible if I reached out for it. This was a time when a girl on my arm was plentiful and I never went in short supply of my most pressing desires. The world was my oyster and I walked down the street as though I owned it!
The picture on the right is four years later in 1968.This was the age of the
original hipster; a subculture of the middle-class lifestyle, an aspiring person who resides in a gentrified neighbourhood, goes to work in a suit and tie, sports a beard, wears sandals or winkle picker shoes, advocates progressive Liberal politics and is generally cool in all they do.
Having returned from Canada towards the end of 1965, my attitude towards life had uncomfortably moved me out of my working-class credentials and placed the mantle of middle-class aspirations around my neck. At the time, nobody went on holiday without returning with enough photographs to make a slide show that could be shared with friends after a Saturday night evening meal at either yours or their house.The couple who went on holiday relished in seeing their exploits again, while their captured slide show audience waited patiently for the holiday film show to end and have the lights switched back on.
For those whom I have temporarily captured as an audience, I will explain the picture on the right. I was born in County Waterford, Ireland, where I lived for the first five years of my life before my parents brought their growing family to West Yorkshire. Now, while all people know where they were born, very few, I would suspect, know where they were conceived. I always had an open relationship with my late mother and being her oldest child of seven, she told me things that she would never have dreamed of telling my younger siblings. One night when we were alone in our house, I boldly asked her where I was conceived. She looked a bit taken aback by my bold request to discover the precise spot of my conception and then in smiling reflection replied, ' About six or seven yards from of the Metal Man, Billy, in Tramore, County Waterford.'
Prior to my first marriage, my fiancee and I went on holiday to the land of my birth and during it, we visited the site where it all began; the 'Metal Man' in Tramore. Tramore is a seaside satellite town of Waterford City which was once a small fishing village. Its most prominent feature is the 'Metal Man', a large cast metal figure atop a high stone pillar pointing seawards. It was erected in 1823 by Lloyds of London to warn seafarers away from dangerous shallow waters.
There are a number of Irish myths and legends surrounding the 'Metal Man'. One such myth was that if a woman could hop barefoot around the base of the 'Metal Man' three times, she would be married within the year. As my mother had clearly hopped around it on/about the time of my conception, I couldn't come back to England without hopping around it thrice myself. My grandfather followed me around, to make sure that at no time did both feet of mine touch the ground.
The strangest of things occurred to me many years after, which I simply put down to the magic of Irish folklore. Over the years that followed, I revisited my homeland many times and I repeated the hopping exercise around it a further twice, making three times in total. Between the ages of twenty six and seventy, I was to marry three times! So, anyone out there who is unattached and yearning to be married one day, you know what to do: book your holiday to Tramore, County Waterford, Ireland, stop hoping for love and marriage to happen and instead, get hopping!" William Forde: October 28th, 2016.
"They say that behind every picture there's a story to be told. Like me, no doubt many of you look through old photographs of yourself, some flattering and some otherwise. These images represent a snap shot of our lives at the time they were taken and they often, I feel, provide a glimpse of what we were then thinking, our prevailing mood, our attitude to life or even the expression of yet unfilled dreams.
The picture on the left is me in Toronto, Canada in 1964. At that time, I was riding high on the crest of my dreams and anything and everything seemed possible if I reached out for it. This was a time when a girl on my arm was plentiful and I never went in short supply of my most pressing desires. The world was my oyster and I walked down the street as though I owned it!
The picture on the right is four years later in 1968.This was the age of the
original hipster; a subculture of the middle-class lifestyle, an aspiring person who resides in a gentrified neighbourhood, goes to work in a suit and tie, sports a beard, wears sandals or winkle picker shoes, advocates progressive Liberal politics and is generally cool in all they do.
Having returned from Canada towards the end of 1965, my attitude towards life had uncomfortably moved me out of my working-class credentials and placed the mantle of middle-class aspirations around my neck. At the time, nobody went on holiday without returning with enough photographs to make a slide show that could be shared with friends after a Saturday night evening meal at either yours or their house.The couple who went on holiday relished in seeing their exploits again, while their captured slide show audience waited patiently for the holiday film show to end and have the lights switched back on.
For those whom I have temporarily captured as an audience, I will explain the picture on the right. I was born in County Waterford, Ireland, where I lived for the first five years of my life before my parents brought their growing family to West Yorkshire. Now, while all people know where they were born, very few, I would suspect, know where they were conceived. I always had an open relationship with my late mother and being her oldest child of seven, she told me things that she would never have dreamed of telling my younger siblings. One night when we were alone in our house, I boldly asked her where I was conceived. She looked a bit taken aback by my bold request to discover the precise spot of my conception and then in smiling reflection replied, ' About six or seven yards from of the Metal Man, Billy, in Tramore, County Waterford.'
Prior to my first marriage, my fiancee and I went on holiday to the land of my birth and during it, we visited the site where it all began; the 'Metal Man' in Tramore. Tramore is a seaside satellite town of Waterford City which was once a small fishing village. Its most prominent feature is the 'Metal Man', a large cast metal figure atop a high stone pillar pointing seawards. It was erected in 1823 by Lloyds of London to warn seafarers away from dangerous shallow waters.
There are a number of Irish myths and legends surrounding the 'Metal Man'. One such myth was that if a woman could hop barefoot around the base of the 'Metal Man' three times, she would be married within the year. As my mother had clearly hopped around it on/about the time of my conception, I couldn't come back to England without hopping around it thrice myself. My grandfather followed me around, to make sure that at no time did both feet of mine touch the ground.
The strangest of things occurred to me many years after, which I simply put down to the magic of Irish folklore. Over the years that followed, I revisited my homeland many times and I repeated the hopping exercise around it a further twice, making three times in total. Between the ages of twenty six and seventy, I was to marry three times! So, anyone out there who is unattached and yearning to be married one day, you know what to do: book your holiday to Tramore, County Waterford, Ireland, stop hoping for love and marriage to happen and instead, get hopping!" William Forde: October 28th, 2016.
