Legends from our own lunchtimes

Monday, April 12, 2010


Nostalgia is something one is supposed to feel while looking through one's parent's belongings, not stumbling through the kids old books, but this evening I picked up a book and out fell a book of matches we were conned into buying in 1982.

We are staying at Ab's, she of the whale like proportions and big smile, waddling round like a gigantic waterbomb and doing all the things that pregnant women do, like painting ceilings while standing on stepladders, and taking care of her sister and Mr Three.  Jen meanwhile mostly is as serious as she was in the picture, concentrating on keeping herself out of hospital this week, thankfully managed to keep down almost 750ml of fluid yesterday, and none of us celebrated more than she.   

Here we all are, under the same roof, just as we were in 1982, except they are the age we were then.  One of us is missing of course, but she didn't come on the scene till well after the photo was taken.

They ate spaghetti that night in Venice, we had pizza and had our photo taken reluctantly but still happily paid some outrageous number of lire for the matchbook that still exists.

It all happened yesterday, we remember everything.  

We are no older, but my how they've grown....


Joan Elizabeth said...

I recognise the people in those photos!

awkward egg said...

I especially love the family of striped shirts in the background!

bitingmidge said...

Yep, I suspect that we should be grateful that we were only ripped off by a humble photographer come match seller, and didn't have the gondolier outfitter ply us with his wares.

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