FullSizeRender.jpgLondon, my London.

 

The Docks.

It’s all so changed, so smart now. But the old buildings don’t have an echo of the past, they are the past. It’s a sunny day, there are many people, the market, pubs, cafes, restaurants, small shops are all alive with now. But I can see the dockers, the market porters and market people, the fat laughing ladies in the pubs and caffes, the drayman and all the tradesmen I saw before, they are all here as the people that are to come will be here. This is what makes a city, old buildings retain all people for ever, they are alive with the city, with now and then. I just saw Dad standing there in his old suit jacket, waistcoat and old cord trousers, just watching, with that quiet approving smile. He’s blondish with grey-blue eyes, a tall good looking man. He gets a lot of respect, you see he’s honest, totally honest ‘as straight as a die’ and I’m a little prince, I’m Jacks son. Dads gone now, but I’m sure he was there, as all the other people were. I could see them, honest, they always will be there.

BH
(Painting, property of the author, 1954)

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