Remembering Grandad: Photography by Jack Monroe.

I took a walk down to Hartington Road this morning, to sit on the wall where he sat most days, passing the time, outside number 18. There were still cigarette butts down the back of the wall, the wall where I spent part of my summers kicking my feet and eating ice cream and listening to him laugh. I never understood why there was a traffic cone and a milk crate behind the wall, but they had been there as long as I can remember, and are still there today. I walked up to the door, and a trader...

Read More