A couple of days ago I met with a friend from school whom I hadn’t seen for fifty years. There was a fair amount of catching up to do …. what happened to? … do you remember? … and so on for a couple of hours. When it came to leave he happened to mention that he had some photographs of us playing rugby, and asked if I had any photographs from school as “you were always playing around with a camera.”
Sadly, I have only a few images from that period of my life as most of my early negatives and prints were destroyed when a sewer pipe burst in my storeroom.
Some of the stuff may have been saveable, but it would have taken a stronger stomach than mine to pick it out of the mess.
I have the first roll of colour I ever shot; a self-portrait taken with the camera’s self-timer (the only time I have ever used it for this purpose). That’s all from the first six years of my photography. Mostly I don’t think about what I lost, but on occasions like meeting my old friend I do regret what happened.