MATCHBOX & DAVID
The family moved from a new town to an old village. Newtonhill was beautiful and bleak. Its houses were tucked into the folds of land, sheltering from the rain and south westerly winds. The village smoke house was dormant and jobs in the oil industry were fast eclipsing those in fishing. It was a new job that had prompted the move from west to east. Alex was now Head of Art at a local secondary school. Every weekday he sank into the seat of their green Vauxhall Viva, pulled a B&H from his corduroy jacket, lit up and drove for twenty minutes to Hazelhead Academy. For his first day ‘at school’ his 5 year old son, David, had made him a pencil case. He’d sharpened down 2 pencils, a piece of chalk and 3 crayons to fit into a ‘Bryant and May’ matchbox. He’d left just enough room for an eraser, a pencil sharpener and a tiny blanket of cotton wool before closing the box. In 2012 Alex died. David headed back home to Scotland to see his mum. Going through his dad’s desk drawers he found the matchbox, it was nearly forty years since his dad had first opened it.
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