Had a bit of a cleanout going on here for a while. You have and will see the odd results of that here in bits and pieces.
One of the things I came across were a bunch of old photos, negatives, and WW1 era postcards from Cairo. I'd carted them around with me since I was in high school and Mum and Dad had bought their 19th old, deceased estate, house to renovate. This one, in Sydney's Rozelle, had been the previous owners' family home since it was built in the late 1800's.
Upstairs, the attic (which was to become my bedroom) was filled with relics from years gone by, amongst them, a lot of old photos, negatives (some on glass), cameras, even an old enlarger. As well as all of that, there was furniture, fabric, folded-up packaging and biscuit tins, mirrors, and all manner of things that I now wish we had hung on to.
In the end, most of the things went to second hand-dealers, with the photographs and equipment being exchanged for a new enlarger, for me to use. Well, most of the photos. For some reason, we (I) hung on to a few, which I discovered again in my cleanout.
As I looked through them, the names on the back – the postcard that shows the hospital where the writer spent a day after returning from Gallipoli, but is signed only "Wil" – I tried to piece together the puzzle, of who belonged to who. I knew that two sisters, old maids, had lived in the house, and some things appeared to be addressed to them, but I wasn't sure how they were connected.
So many people, I figured there must be some family members alive. I also figured, if that was the case, then they should really have the photos rather than me. I started hunting.
You would think, in this day and age, things would be easier to find on the internet, but I spent a couple of days looking, before I found a funeral notice for one of the young boys in a photo. He'd died last year, but on the notice were names of his children. I called the funeral parlour, and the woman there told me she would be happy to forward a letter to the children.
About a week later, I got a call from one of his daughters. She lived nearby, so I took her the photos that afternoon.
It was lovely hearing her stories. I was able to fill in more gaps in the puzzle. The house had belonged to her great-aunts, but she had been there and remembered it. She said what she remembered most were the mirrors in the attic, hung from the ceiling all around at odd angles. Apparently the ladies used to go up there to do their hair, the mirrors allowing them to see all angles. I could just picture that!
Now she wants me to send the post renovation photos.
I was so thrilled to return the things to the family. I felt like it was a job well done.
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