An image of the (work) self

One of the disadvantages of working on a short term contract is that you aren't included in the company pension scheme and end up investing in dodgy companies like Equitable Life. One of the advantages is that you get to have your photo taken officially on an annual basis. What pleasure is derived then on looking back and trying to understand the decisions behind the fringe / no fringe styling issue ... the truth of course is that angst still persists.

Reflecting further there is something very familiar in these small plastic items that were handled many times a day for 12 months, yet the oldest is 19 years old. What happened to 1987-1991 I'm not certain. But what connection do I have with the person in the photos, even the name has changed? Yet these objects do remind me of who I was and what I did on a day to day for years and years, the stuff that gets lost in the dark corners of the mind as time passes by.

What value if any will these kinds of items have to future anthropologists sifting through the waste of contemporary life; maybe these still contain chemical traces, the smear of a chicken sandwich consumed on the last day of use; will there be anything to be learned in the grade of plastic that encapuslates them; what does the blue signify, is this referring to gender, or grade, employment sector or contract length; why were they issued so regularly; why did they change shape and the logo transform; why was the background colour different; why was the subject smiling on some and not on others?

Other issues we cannot anticipate will no doubt consume future generations, but will they have the same interest in such items as we have in war time identity papers, ration books or clocking in cards? By having magnetic strips on our work passes, login codes and virtual identities we will soon lose the traces of our day to day working lives and in some way life will be diminished.

Souvenirs

These next objects have been on my mind for some time now, and I deliberately rooted (or should I say mudgered?) about to find in them in the drawers this weekend to see if they were just as fascincating as I remembered.

I've always liked to have souvenirs from my holidays and have done some work in the past with students and the objects that they brought home with them from field trips to New York. It's proved to be an interesting exercise, some seize the opportunity to swell existing collections, some want a unique marker of their visit, and some want to bring home a trinket that sums up New York through a more obvious 'tourist' souvenir. I remember our trip to Tallin, Estonia in 2005 fondly, as it was our first foray into the former Eastern Europe, a charming and relatively unspoilt, uncommercial place. Wandering around the small streets I came across a shop selling old soviet items, medals, posters, bank notes and oddments. It seemed a wonderful opportunity to take home something a little different.



And so reader, I found them. 15 Estonian kroon (I think around £2 or so at the time) secured the bag of old watch mechanisms, 15 in total with 3 watch faces. Nothing special in this you may think, and you would be right, a minature world of cogs but quiet unremarkable and commonplace.



However for me the little details of Russin letters, the shapes, colours and general patina of the faces evoke a time before liberation for the good folks of Estonia, when they were obliged to use Russian currency, learn the Russian language and distance themselves from their European cousins. I would recommend a trip to the Baltics, lovely people, but don't bother with the wine, when we were selecting a local bottle from the menu the waitress said "no, really, chose something else, it's not nice!"

1970s postcard

One delight of keeping endless piles of old correspondence is that you occasionally come across artistic gems. This postcard was sent in the early 70s to me and my sister from our Dutch grandfather telling us, in the hand of his second wife, that he would be writing to us on sunday, thanking us for our letters and wishing us and our cat all the best. I wonder how many children write to their grandparents these days? Most likely they Skpe or even text. But this is a lovely reminder of the relationship that we had. The image, although a clog wearing child, was published in West Germany. The publisher's name is obscured, but it's typical of it's time.

From the tantalus

We all have those special places for keeping buttons that we mean to sew on later, or stamps that are too interesting to throw in the bin with the rubbish. During my childhood the tantalus was one such spot. The bottles were rarely filled with alcohol except at Christmas, but it was a nice object and took pride of place in the middle of the dresser next to the dining table. All manner of items would be locked away, and so they resided for year upon year. I was lucky enough to become the keeper of the tantalus when my mother died, and it has been kept, mainly unopened for around 14 years, until today when I decided to see what was there to take me down memory lane.



I could be accused of being over sentimental, but I was surprised and a little upset by some of the things that I found and had forgotten that I had. The Dutch flag was one that she had brought over with her when she came to England way back in the 1940s after the war to be with my father. The small photo booth picture was from just before she started to decline with the lung cancer that was to take her life. The wristband was from her oncology appointment, 3 years before she died and the Ritalin (empty) was obviously some medication that she was taking to help her to cope with the anxiety of her illness. This small arrangement is not only a reminder of her past, her appearance and her suffering, but an acknowledgement that no matter how tidy a person you are (and make no mistake my mother was such a woman), small vestiges of the past squirreled away can leave a big impact on those who are left behind to remember you. Take heed you compulsive, neurotic types a little slippage now and again is not a bad thing.

Hiker Corn Salve

There is no doubt about it, old medicinal preparations make me shudder. I can't open this tin incase I find the imprint of some ancient finger embedded in the cream, but the graphics on the lid make it worthy of keeping. I can't imagine that my grandparents were hikers, but it has a distinct pre war feel. The instructions are very specific, not only does it take 4 days to improve your corns, but you also have to bathe in hot water and soda after. No good if you are out in a tent on the Pennine Way. I wonder if I may have bought this myself in a second hand shop. It's non the less a lovely item, 1" across. Apparently Carter Bros. of Shipley disappeared in the early 1970s. It shall remain unopened for the foreseeable future.

Australian safety matches

Funnily enough, I've never been to Australia. I don't even know many people who have. So why on earth I should have found this match box (empty) in a drawer is beyond me. I did once have a minor collection of match boxes, but they were mainly from bars and hotels, the thin fold over type. Looking a the back it's definately post 1973, what constitutes an award winning match I'm not sure. As for the illustration, well Forestry looks like a gripping career choice, if this is number 22 in a series it could be worth 5 minutes of your time to wonder what the other 21 would constitute - if you were the pub quiz type.

Golden Wonder keyring

The final product keyring comes with a wonderful quality of sound. The tiny yellow plastic crisps rattle just the same today as they did 40 years ago. They come from a time before our supermarket shelves were so laden with crisps, and, as elsewhere on contintental europe they were called 'chips'. Funny isn't it how Paprika flavour has still not really become a favourite in the UK. The tactile quality of this item marks it as a real gem.

The second item, a horse head keyring is one with least interest for me. I have never been interested in 'shiny' things, and there is a lightness and cheapness about this ring that is a little unpleasant. However it has served it's time in the bag, so deserves a little exposure to the world for that alone.

Who is she?

Maybe someone could tell me who this lady is?

Product keyrings

Part of the interest in collections is the comparisons between objects within them. The notion of selecting one special part of a collection is meaningless, as the range of the objects included is critical to the whole. Here are some of the products included in the Dutch keyring collection, though I'm very disappointed that the small blue plastic toilet rolls have deteriorated too much to be of any visual worth!

Dutch keyrings

As children we would go shopping at the Etos supermarket in Eindhoven with our grandfather. It was far more fun than shopping at home, as not only did they have sweets behind the counter for children, but products had free keyrings attached to entice the buyer to chose one product over another. Back home in Dewsbury these were kept on a metal coat hanger in the wardrobe for many years before being transferred to a plastic bag and consigned to the attic, back of the drawer, shed. Scott Tracy (I think I'm right here) was such a trophy, probably from around 1970.