Hazel

When I arrived to interview Hazel at her North London home, I found that she had prepared my favourite lunch. We had never met before, but she had secretively asked our mutual contact what I might like. She showed me around her home and even offered me a pair of guest slippers to wear, an invitation perhaps, to ‘take a walk in her shoes’. This visit became more than an interview; instead it was a day of sharing intimate stories of profoundly difficult experiences surrounding the changing relationship she had had with her mother in the final years of her life.

Towards the end of the day, Hazel showed me her family documents. As she flicked through the digital photographs on her desk-top computer she skipped past one rather quickly. I asked if she would mind going back, as that photograph had caught my attention. “Oh,” she said, “that's not a good picture. I am crying in that one.” “Would you mind telling me about the story behind that photo?” I asked. She told me that this was a photo taken at her mother's 100th birthday party and that the day had been particularly difficult.