The Prophecy

My father was a keen photographer and I sometimes used to take him around the countryside looking for places of interest for his pictures. I particularly remember driving round Warwick one day.

We’d had a horrendous journey up the M40. The only good point, if that is the right word, was the accident that caused us an hour’s delay on the motorway. Somebody had been badly hurt and the air ambulance landed in front of us and we were about two cars lengths from the area the police had cleared for the machine to land. Dad was able to get out and take some pictures of the helicopter.

Eventually we got into the town and spent half an hour getting lost in the one way system, trying to find a place to park

“Oh look at that!” said dad, “Now there’s an interesting picture, stop where you can and I’ll get out to look for a good angle for a shot or two.

Well as luck would have it a car was just pulling out from its parking spot, so I nipped in quickly and found I was more or less in the correct position for the photo dad wanted to take.

Dad fussed around for a moment before suddenly looking puzzled in his hunt for the perfect angle for his photograph.

“This is rather strange,” he said, “I’ve never been to Warwick before, but I’m sure I’ve seen a picture very much like this somewhere at home.”

I had a look through the view finder of his camera, but the shot didn’t mean anything to me.

We walked on slowly and eventually found a shop where we settled with a cup of tea and some cakes for half an hour, while Dad thought long and hard about the photograph of the East Gate that he’d just taken. Eventually he came to the conclusion that he must have seen a similar picture it in a box of old postcards that his father had accumulated many years before.

After that of course there was no holding him, until I took him home to search through all the old pictures in his possession.

A few days later he rang me up to say that he’d found a postcard view of the East Gate that must have been painted some time around 1910. The road was shown nearly empty except for two or three pedestrians and a very early motor car. The post card had been included with a letter to Mr Albert Edward Ball Esq.:- dad’s father.

----O----

“Dear Albert, the other day we decided to go out to see Warwick in our new motor car. Poor old Buttercup is getting very old and smelly and at times she can be unpleasant to drive behind! So we thought we’d try the latest form of transport. The advantages are quite considerable. There is no need for stabling or pasture, nor do we now need to make regular visits to the Farrier. In the meantime the contraption sits quietly when not in use in a small building known as a garage.

Further advantages include the incredible speed of the machine which it is able to keep up all day unless faced by a long incline or steep hill. It never seems to tire, unlike poor old Buttercup. Another joy is the ability to breathe the fresh air of the countryside once out of town.

I foresee the future of these incredible machines in times to come, when no doubt they will glide silently and effortlessly through the countryside bringing the benefits of fresh air and relaxation to those able to afford them

However I thought this small painting might interest you, as it is the only occasion when I believe a member of our family has been painted by an artist. This painting was presumably made with the intention of turning it into a commercial venture, by means of reproduction as a post card to be offered for sale to the general public.”

The letter rambled on discussing family news before signing off, your loving sister Alice.

----O----

From this old letter it seemed that dad’s uncle and aunt had taken a drive one afternoon in their new fangled motor car and had spotted an artist at work as they drove through the East Gate in Warwick.

Being of a naturally inquisitive disposition dad’s mother made her husband stop the car and walked over to chat to the artist. The artist himself was greatly intrigued by the thought of placing a horseless carriage in a composition including an historic view. “A wonderful dichotomy between ancient and modern,” he is supposed to have said at the time.

The contrast to our modern trip to the city certainly couldn’t have been greater. The road through the gateway was now closed off by several posts and the pavement where the pedestrians were walking had become the car parking area where we had stopped to allow my father to take his picture.

None the less it was interesting to see the contrast between the historic building, the old motor car and the family reminiscences of three generations ago. Though my great aunt’s prophetic powers were terrible