I found myself in the deepest, darkest recesses of my garage this afternoon. As far as I can recall, my garage hasn’t fulfilled it’s purpose of housing motorised transport for over ten years now. It is stuffed full to the rafters with cages of equipment, paint tins and piles of cardboard boxes; some of which have followed my every house move; that’s eight houses or so.
One of the boxes was labelled, intriguingly, “Alan’s Stuff”. It was still taped up – unopened for some thirty years.
Well – treasure of sorts: Amongst the artefacts carefully stored were old university files on gravity dam designs, files of calculations for launching steel truss bridges over railway lines, some wonderful old notebooks lovingly detailing epic walks done as a teenager, boxes of 35mm colour slides of quite fantastic structural engineering projects undertaken, and then, at the bottom of the box, a small neat stack of simple white envelopes addressed to me: Old love letters.
All in date order from my time at university, all in perfect condition. First Class stamps were 9p at the time.
I have sat in Mission Control this evening reading the happiness of youth that seems a million years ago, the memories washing wonderfully over me.
Go on. Go into your garage and find your thirty year old unopened box. I can guarantee it will make you think back and smile.