The top picture, l-r, Jacqui, my first sweetheart, Brother Bumble, Diane, Me. What I love about it is how Diane looks just like the kid in the water in Seurat’s Bathers at Asnières as below. It was taken at a cousin’s wedding. Mum said that Jacqui and Diane spent the whole day swapping hats. The second picture is of an annual scene; it’s a slip road somewhere near to Junction 16 of the M6; Jacqui, Diane (socks-flip-flop combo totally de rigeur) and Bumble (that sweat shirt will be new, or at least newly laundered, but he was the sort of boy who could make something look like he’d been wearing it for a week when he’d only had it on for five minutes) are waiting for a bus that will take us down to the South of France for a fortnight’s holiday on a caravan site. It began its journey in Manchester, stopped to pick up again in Birmingham and once more in London, where exotic dope-smoking types got on board, and then it only stopped a couple of times on French service stations. Twenty fours hours and you’re there duck.
Seurat, Bathers at Asnières