Marion

Marion's mum had polio, so walking wasn't easy for her. Being the eldest of 5 kids, it was 8-year old Marion’s job take the pushchair and go up to Tower Bridge Road to get the groceries.

She still remembers the list. Two boxes of cornflakes, two bags of sugar, four quarters of tea, and a bag of broken biscuits. Her parents were Irish, so she'd also have to buy a hock of ham and was given two big bags, one for vegetables and the other for potatoes.  Sometimes she was allowed to go the bakers, where they made donuts in front of you. She would get 7 for the family for a penny each. Marion would always take the long way home. She didn't want her friends to see her because they would mock her for having to go shopping while they were out playing.

At school, Marion loved art. She'd spend all her break times in the art class and only came out to get her free school dinner. Every year she would win the school art prize. She dreamed of going to St Martins School of Art in London, but although she got a grade 1 in art, she only got a grade 2 in English, so she wasn't allowed to do her A-levels. This meant that she couldn't go to Art school.

Marion was around 16 then and was engaged to be married to a local boy called John. 'He was the one,' she told me, but unfortunately, Marion's dad thought otherwise. He didn't like his daughter getting engaged so young and told her to break it off and being a good girl, Marion did. She went to John's parents' house and handed back all the engagement presents. John's parents were furious, and an argument cumulated in Marion throwing the engagement ring, a diamond solitaire, across the room and storming off. As she headed back to tube station, she hoped that John would run after her, but he never did. This, along with the realisation that she was not going to ever go to art school, was devastating for Marion. She had 'a bit of a breakdown' and spent several months curled up in bed. She told me that she felt so useless.

Marion got a cleaning job. She met a new man and had a baby son. Unfortunately, he was a heavy drinker and got violent, so the marriage ended, and Marion bought up her son alone.

She never really stopped thinking about John. Every time she went shopping in the Walworth Road, Marion would look into the pawnshop windows hoping to see the diamond ring that she threw across the room back when she was a teenager. One day, when her son was about 7-years-old, she was looking through the Yellow Pages, and she found John's number. On a whim, she called him.

John picked her up outside the Locarno Club in Streatham, and they went for lunch in Dulwich Village. They had a lovely time and were getting on well until John mentioned that he was friends with another girl that worked in a nearby knitting shop. Marion didn't say anything. When he dropped her off at her cleaning job, she said, "lovely to see you," and that evening phoned and left a message wishing him 'All the best with his new girlfriend.' She never saw him again until several years later when she visited his grave in Peckham Rye cemetery. It was a paupers grave with just a simple wooden cross. John had committed suicide; he'd taken an overdose and was just 34 when he died.

Marion told me she wishes she'd spoken up more for herself when they had that lunch. She wishes she had told him how she felt. "Things could have been so different, but with John and me, it was just bad timing."

Marion ended up working in hospitals and, until recently, was working in Wandsworth Prison as a healthcare worker.

A couple of years ago, Marion noticed that one of her nipples suddenly became inverted. It wasn't painful, so she didn't think much of it. She'd always checked herself for lumps but thought she'd better see the doctor anyway. A mammogram revealed an 18 cm tumour. Marion had a mastectomy followed by a course of radiotherapy.

A later scan revealed that some of the cancer had dropped to her hip on the other side of her body. When she found out that it had gone into her bones, Marion was absolutely terrified. She remembers working in hospital wards with patients with advanced cancer, and she told me that there was a strange smell that she has never forgotten. She thought that having cancer in her bones meant that she was 'a gonna'.

The consultant explained that modern treatment is incomparable to when Marion worked in a hospital over 30 years ago. They put her on Chemo pills that have reduced the cancer in her hip to almost nothing. The doctors have said that they will not operate because there's a chance that it will spread, but they are confident that it's under control now. Marion said that the NHS has treated her brilliantly. Her drugs, which cost over £1000 for a month's supply, have saved her life. Marion got the all-clear on April 6th. She has to have bi-monthly check-ups, but her prognosis is good.

Marion was a very chatty and upbeat person to talk to. She's 69, her son is grown up, and she often gets to see him. I told her that she should do an evening class in art, and she said that now all her treatment is almost over, she might just do it.

Before all this happened, Marion had no idea that a nipple suddenly inverting could be a sign of cancer. She'd seen all the adverts saying check yourself for lumps but knew nothing of this symptom. She wanted to share this rather personal story in the hope that it might help other women who find themselves in a similar situation.

MARK

A few years ago, Mark went to the doctors about some minor ailment. While at the surgery, the doctor noticed a lump to the side of Mark's neck. It turned out that Mark had throat cancer.

Mark works in demolition and is shown here in Lower Marsh in Waterloo. I photographed him outside another local shop that's being torn down to make way for a new hotel as part of the gentrification of this old London street.

Mark is a supervisor. His job is to ensure "That all the men who work for me come home every night in one piece." He loves his job and told me that it's a 'passion' and that in the 48 years that he's worked, he's never had an accident. He added that, more importantly, in the time he's been a supervisor, nobody has ever been injured on his watch. 

Because of his cancer, Mark wasn't allowed to work during the pandemic, but as soon as he'd had his 2nd jab, he was back on-site 'Where he belongs.'

It's been 5 years since Mark had the chemo, the radiotherapy, and the operations that left him with 23 metal pins in his neck. He added that all the skin on his neck has been replaced and showed me his rather young-looking neck. 

I asked him how he coped with all that invasive treatment, and he said that, "It didn't bother me at all - I just got on with it." He said that the nurses loved how he remained so upbeat during treatment and wished that they could 'bottle his cheerfulness' to give to other patients that were not coping so well.

It's been 5 years since Mark had the all-clear, and at his last visit, he asked the Oncologist if he could stop having the frequent checkups. The Oncologist shook his head and said, "You concentrate on looking after your men on site, and I will concentrate on looking after you.". "Fair do's," said Mark with a smile.

MIMI

Mimi's mum means the absolute world to her. 

She helped Mimi cope with Anorexia - which she has been fighting since the age of 11. In Mimi's words, "Anorexia is the most evil, insidious parasite of a disease conceivable,"

Her mum was always there throughout her many stays in the hospital. She was there when Mimi was stuck in an abusive relationship. She helped her deal with the PTSD and the mental and emotional fallout that this caused. 

Mimi told me that she is blessed to have such an angel - "my mum has been there for me through the best and the worst of times - she would do anything for her family. We speak every day. She is an incredible friend, carer, and a constant source of sunshine in my life."

I took this shot at The Southbank as Mimi waited for her mum, who was on her way from the family home in rural West Sussex. Mimi is an artist, and they'd arranged to meet to see a painting exhibition together. 

Mimi now lives in London - she loves the diversity, the culture, and the endless stimulation of the place. She enjoys nothing more than wandering its winding street and rummaging through charity stores looking for cool vintage clothes. (I asked to photograph Mimi because she had great dress sense).

She has a brother Tristan, now aged 22, who got Leukaemia when he was just 5 and when Mimi was 11. Mimi received a Princess Diana award for her help caring for him during his leukaemia treatment. Seeing her little brother so unwell must've been a hard thing for an 11-year-old to cope with. 

Her other brother Rowan, 15, is "my best friend, greatest cheerleader, and favourite person to be around. Reciprocally, he loves having fun with me too, and we are the best company for one another."

Her favourite times are when he comes to stay for sleepovers at her flat. The two recently went to see the Amy Winehouse exhibition at the Design Museum. They are both big fans – and Mimi said it was a joy to be dancing around the show with Rowan. "For some reason, he enables me to find and do things I enjoy." Rowan has Downs Syndrome. He never judges Mimi; he just sees her as his wonderful big sister.

Mimi has been through a lot in her 27 years. “I have had some incredibly difficult experiences that have radically altered the course of my life and have definitely made some stupid and naïve mistakes.”

The emotional and physical effects of which have caused Mimi and her mum great pain.  

However, Mimi refuses to regret; "I try to remember that regret is a waste of time, for we cannot undo, only move on in different ways." But as Mimi put it rather beautifully, "I feel that the experiences that I have been through have helped me to find some meaning in my life. It's made me see the more superficial elements of our world for what they are and has allowed me to focus more on appreciating existence on the whole." 

Obviously, Mimi's issues haven't all just vanished into thin air, but it's clear from the above that her intelligence and ability to self-reflect in such an objective way combined with her mum's unfaltering support makes one feel optimistic about her future.

As I took the shot of Mimi, her mum appeared. Mimi's mum took no time to ask me who I was and why I wanted to take her daughter's photo. I immediately sensed her protectiveness towards Mimi. That protectiveness must be something that has been there for Mimi her whole life.  

We conducted this interview by email, and I am so grateful to Mimi for being so open and honest. Mimi told me that she wanted to share this personal information because she knows that, as a young adult struggling to cope with modern life, she is not alone. She hopes that others reading this may get some comfort and hope from her words. 

pat

Pat's a lifelong South Londoner. She remembers playing on the WW2 bomb sites in Ferndale Road, Clapham.

At 10 years old, She’d get the bus all by herself to Bromley to visit her Auntie. She remembers walking on her own to Battersea and going scrumping in Brockwell Park. "Things were different then. When you were a kid, you just went out on the streets by yourself; you were free to do what you wanted. There were hardly any cars in those days though."

When she was 19, she got pregnant. She wasn't married and tried to keep it a secret. But her Auntie guessed, saying, "You need to visit the dentist." Pat explained that if a woman had any rotten teeth, the dentist would pull them out as soon as she got pregnant to avoid any infection getting to the baby.

Pat's dad was strict. At that time, he was living in Wales, and she was terrified when she wrote to say she was expecting. He wrote back saying, 'We all make mistakes.’ He sent her a fiver so she could get the train to visit him for, 'A shoulder to cry on.'

Pat got married and had 3 more kids by the time she was 24. She said it wasn't easy having 4 kids under the age of 6 at her young age with no washing machine or Hoover.

Her husband was a lorry driver. He was violent and would hit Pat. "I was a quiet girl back then. He had no reason to hit me, but he did - he was okay apart from that, though".

She put up with him for 20 years. But one day, a friend said, "Your kids are grown up now; you haven't got to stay with him you know?" Pat thought about this and divorced him.

She then got a job at The Mitre Inn in Tooting (Now The Long Room). She loved working behind the bar. "It really bought me out of myself."

She remarried and got a job as a cleaner in Prestos Supermarket in Balham. It then became a Safeway, and Pat worked on the cigarette counter on the shop floor. (It’s now a Waitrose).

Her husband ran off with someone else, so she divorced him too.

She's retired now and said, "All my kids are good to me; I don't need anyone else."

Pat said she's had some hard times but has always kept a happy disposition. It probably explains why she looked absolutely nothing like an 80-year-old when I took her photo.

FRANK

Frank was a 'wagon driver' for most of his life. He drove 'six-wheelers' for Walkers Transport all over Britain.

He always wore a shirt and tie to work. He told me that he always has done and always will do. He's 77 now and retired.

I took this shot at Kings Cross Station. Frank had come down to London from his hometown of Leeds 'to have a bit of a wander around.'

He's been to London many times before and knows what busses and trains to get. He told me that he loves the place, and it's nice to be back after lockdown.

He's had a few health issues. Lung cancer, appendicitis, a hip replaced, and recently a trapped nerve in his leg. He said that all his problems are on the right side of his body. He doesn't know why but they just are. He told me that the pain killers don’t do much but that a very hot bath really helps. He added that it will not stop him from getting around. He still smokes, and has done so since he was 13.

In 1963 when Frank was young, he went to the Queen's Hall in Leeds to see Aker Bilk play. Also headlining were The Beatles. Frank said it was a fantastic experience seeing the 'Fab-Four' play in such a small venue.

However, his favourite band at the time was 'The Hollies.' He saw them perform at The Batley Variety Club, known as 'The Vegas of the North.' He said they were great blokes, and he got to talk to them after the show.

Frank's always liked music and dressing smartly, and he's always enjoyed being out and about and trying new things.

His other claim to fame was appearing in the movie 'A Private Function.' Frank played the head waiter. It was just a walk-on part, but he pops up several times in the film.

Frank says he's had a good life, and despite his various ailments, he intends to continue to do so.

He's off to Alton Towers next week. I asked him if he was going on any of the rides. 'I'm doing the lot,' he replied in his strong Yorkshire Accent, 'What's the point of going if you aren't going to go on all the rides?'