I had gotten all excited.
I found some old camera films from somewhere between five and ten years ago. I decided to get them developed… who knows what would be on here from my 15-20 year old age range.
I sent them off to truprint for only 99p a film plus p&p. I chose the smallest size prints and waited.
Yesterday, when I was in on my sick day and still in bed being (not all that) sick the postman tried to deliver them.
But not all that hard. He tried to fit the package through the letterbox that leads on to a ‘The Bill’ style veranda. He didn’t go back down to ring my bell to alert me that he was there waiting with my memories in his greasy hands.
So, when I got up, probably about ten minutes later I found a little card through said letterbox informing me that they’d tried (but failed).
It said I had to wait $* HOURS (that’s 48 hours in capitals becuase I’m angry) to go and pick them up round the corner, whereas if I wasn’t in my pants and if it wasn’t so cold out then I could have gone out and shaken my fist at the greasy postman on the street and demanded my package. Only I’d have no ID on me and would by then have probably locked myself out like in a sitcom.
So I just had a cup of tea and vented my fury at the stirring.
Today though I got up early, and only 25 hours after the card was posted I went to the sorting office…and huzzah, the package was there, and it was my photos.
Me and Dawn rushed to the Candid Cafe to open and drink coffee and looks at my past.
And my past is so fucking dull… picutres of my cat (lovely – but there’sa bout 40 of them). My mum and trees for some reason. that’s about it.
No wonder I never took many photos if the memories are that boring…