There's a sense of completeness for me in seeing that photo tonight:
1. I walked to the top of Bickerton Hill in South Cheshire on Sunday and could see the snow covered Welsh mountains from there.
2. My great grandfather worked at the Oakeley Quarry at Blaenau Ffestiniog, which was the largest underground slate mine in the world. Sadly he died of Silicosis in his early 60s because of the slate dust he inhaled during his working life. Apparently slate dust is renown for this as the particles are so sharp and jagged they injure the lungs, resulting in the growth of scar tissue (Silicosis). What chance had the man got? One of his jobs was to set the explosive charges, and thus he was one of the first back at the scene to make sure the charges had detonated properly, most likely well before the dust had settled. The compensation he received for contracting this fatal lung disease? A few shillings more in his pay packet each week until he died. Apparently, he was well aware of just how ill he was, stating the night before he died "This will be the last time I climb these stairs to bed" and that he wasn't afraid of dying... "It's just the fear of the unknown". Austerity? They don't know the bloody
meaning of the word these days!
3. A short while before seeing your photo I was looking through some of my photos and found some pictures I'd taken a few years ago of my great grandfather's terraced house in Blaenau Ffestiniog. Something of a coincidence.
And all those memories from looking at a few photos... that's the power of photography.