light25 2

I have two very early memories.

I remember being held in front of a little black and white television set and my mother saying, watch this, remember this, this is history, this is. And it was the Apollo 11 landing, Armstrong’s first foot on the moon. And the light was coarse white lines scratched into the black. I can summon fragments of that memory even now. The nature of the light.

And then, I was in some kind of toy car or cart, out behind my nan and grandad’s house, in the snow. And I was stuck. In my memory, everything has the colour of a faded Polaroid. The light was grey and blue, and the snow was white and black, and I couldn’t move, and there was no-one else around. May as well have been on the moon. Everything feels like forever when you’re tiny. Trapped forever in old light and black and white.