Mrs Picken was an elderly widow, who day after day, year after year, left an apple on her window-sill for me as I delivered her daily paper. I have never forgotten this. She took me to see the rose bed she had planted for her husband after he died. I then went to University. When I next visited her memory had faded badly. So I visited on my next break, only to find she had been admitted to a Nursing Home. I never heard from her again.
On Sunday I was in Colinton to celebrate my parents 55th wedding anniversary and my mum told me that the sign to Mrs Picken’s husband’s bootmaker shop had been revealed whilst renovations were underway. I shed a tear on seeing this old sign.
I made this film many years ago: it is a film about my memory and Mrs Picken’s fading memory.