The old hometown looks the same....

My brother John stayed at Bronwydd last night, so that we could go and visit mum together this morning. He found a "Golden Wedding" photograph album in the loft  room. A beautiful, pristine thing wrapped in gauze and housed in its own presentation box. Why not take it along to show to the lady the 50th anniversary of whose nuptials it celebrated? John and I both remembered the day itself, and the party, well. (On reflection maybe the party and aftermath not so much.)

Giving the notion no time to lose the name of action, we duly presented it to Her Majesty, who giddily cracked the spine in anticipation ......

Every single page was blank. Mum or Dad must have bought it intending to curate mementos before being overtaken by events. Either that or it was an avant-garde art statement. Very prone to them the old man was as I recall. "Épater Le Bourgeois," the superannuated provocateur was always saying, and he's still doing it from beyond the grave.