The scent of these Roses is heavenly. I was sniffing them the whole journey home.
I picked them from the front garden of a house I used to live in as a child, back in the 1960s.
The garden is very wild and rambling and the house is currently empty and boarded up.
Well I say "boarded", but "anti-squatter-metal-plated" would be the more accurate contemporary description.
It was the house I was living in when my Dad died in 1970.
I'm reasonably certain that today was his birthday. (or if not then its near abouts, as this week is my dead family birthday week, the 16th was my elder brother's birthday and the 19th was my Mum's).
When I think about today, I'm reminded that back in 2000 I ended up marking it by participating in my very first Naked Protest. I stripped off in front of New Scotland Yard police HQ. What a great year that subsequently became. But thats several stories to tell with another portrait.
Happy Birthday Dad.
How I wish that you could have stuck around to meet the man that I've become today.