Snap Shots, from Darren When I was younger we tended to call friends of my parents ‘aunty’ and ‘uncle’. I sort of knew this, but it was a long time before I realised that Julia was not actually my real cousin. This was because, in those formative years, our families seemed to spend so much time together. Those memories have a sort of seventies richness, like the photographs that influence them. Visits to Lin and Kieth’s in London, or Essex were always fun: cycling at some park or playground, where there were crossings and road markings (all very grown up); dropping Action Men out of the top window in a parachute (he didn’t make it); Camping in the garden at our flat in Plumstead; Holidays with Christmas Trees on the beach; Windsurfing (or rather constantly hauling a wet heavy sail out of the water); Cricket over at One Tree Hill, where Mark or Julia would do the runs for my dad when he was in bat. These were times I will never forget and Julia was always there, smiling laughing and being generally loud. Some people say something and think about it afterwards, Julia thought about it and said it anyway – she was bluntly honest (in a good way). Julia always seemed to remain optimistic, whatever life threw at her she seemed to make the best of it, to not be put down. She had an ability to see the funny side of things and was always jolly, always laughing with that little snort she used to have when she got short of breath because she’d laughed too much. Julia didn’t do things by half; she couldn’t be allergic to something, with simple sniffles over pollen, no – her whole room had to be stripped of anything that could hold dust! Thankfully we stayed in touch as we got older, but as the years go by time seems to sneak away from you, certainly we did not see as much of each other as we should have. But her last few years seemed to be the happiest she had been. She loved having children and was more settled and more focussed than I had ever known her. I think she would have made a great teacher. And this is the problem with memories, like photographs, there are many gaps between each one. I really miss being able to remind each other of what happened in between the pictures.