For her last few months, in the grip of dementia, my nan had to move to a care home so that she could receive round the clock care.
– I visited and suddenly realised this would be the last time I'd see her. I'd left my camera back in London. All I had with me was a cheap disposable camera - no focus, no exposure control and a roll of film that had sat in the car's glove box for a few years. The resulting images were as evanescent as memories.
Two years later, after she passed away, we finally sold number 20 - the house that three generations of my family grew up in. It was brand new back in the late 40s and over the next six decades we softly pressed our lives, dreams and words into its fresh plaster, like memory foam.
– My mum and I took one last walk around the garden that my nan created from scratch, shooting as much as I could to ward off the inevitable goodbye.
I drove past a year ago and the new owners, a young family, have now started to make it part of their own story. A wall here and there have been knocked down and rebuilt into new configurations and the tiny front garden has been paved; all the better to ward off dandelions and goosegrass.
I don't know whether the hydrangeas, lilacs, roses and snowdrops are still there - but in this film they still are. I wonder if that's what my nan wanted to see, as she craned to look out of the care home's window.
Shot on expired C41 film.
Soundtrack, "Lullaby for the old house", created by Mat Denney from field recordings.