ghost box

After my Father's messy exit in the late 70s, I lived with my grandparents in suburban London while my mother put herself back together. Each morning my brother and I clung to those fleeting minutes of entertainment aimed squarely at children before we slipped off into the abyss of daytime TV.

The Thames Television ident heralded this change from child friendly space to grey adult world. A world which had separated me from my mother. But it wasn’t sadness that I felt when I watched the logo rise from the river. The emotion was more melancholic, captured by that mournful session trumpet.

It was the feeling that something was passing, perhaps ending, and that this was going on around me all the time.