Now here’s a nice story. Twenty years ago I wrote a feature for Country Life magazine. It was probably called something like My Country Childhood – a bit of a stretch really because I was raised in suburbia and only sent to the country during school holidays in a misguided attempt to cure my asthma. But anyway, sent I was, and I have many happy memories of being off my usual short leash and allowed to go free-range by my
enlightened totally clueless grandparents. It was pretty much heaven, apart from the pollen and the animal hair.
The Country Life feature was illustrated with a photo of a very small me in a pig sty with an enormous black, recently-farrowed sow. Yep, we were defying all the health & safety boxes that day. Behind me, perched on a fence, sat a boy aged about ten. I would show you that picture if only I could find my own copy of it.
Dissolve to January 2015 when, to my delight and amazement, I received an email that said Just read your 1994 article. I was that boy. I mean it’s jaw-dropping to think of anyone keeping a magazine for twenty years, let alone picking it up and reading it. Incredible. So Jim (for it was he) and I have been wandering down a few cowpat-splattered memory lanes this week and one of the things I’ve learned is that the old horse I used to ride belonged to Jim’s uncle. Searching for Laurie in the Pig Sty I found Laurie aboard Dolly, black and white evidence of my short-lived career in the saddle. But how to send it to Jim electronically when I have failed for the past three years to get my scanner to speak to my computer?
Well, I thought, this is beyond ridiculous. What’s the point of having a machine if all it does is sit in the corner and sneer at you? Today’s mission was to tame the beast and, not having any pre-school grandchildren on hand to set me straight, I had to go solo. It has taken all afternoon but I have succeeded. It’s a poor thing but it was all my own work. Now I suppose I’d better learn about photo-shopping.