Photographs by Julian Germain with the photo albums of Charles Snelling.
For every minute you are angry you lost sixty seconds of happiness.
'I met Charles Albert Lucien Snelling on a Saturday in April, 1992. He lived in a typical two up two down terraced house amongs many other typical two up two down terraced houses, close to Fratton Park, the Portsmouth v Nottingham Forest cup - tie, when i noticed Charle's house. It was yellow and orange. In that respect it was totally different from every other house on the street.
Mildly interested and with plenty of time to spare, i crossed the road to have a closer look and discovered that this was actually a kind of shop. In the large front bay window there were a few plants on sale for unusual prices; for example 57p or 34p or 83p. I went inside and there i found some more plants and flowers sitting in plastic pots covered with newspaper. The bottom half of the walls were wood panelled and painted bright yellow; above that they were decorated, probably in the 1970's, with a bold paisley/floral style wallpaper.
Charlie appeared; quietly spoken, elderly, polite. He told me what the various flora were and said that yes, he would be happy to put some to one side for me until after the match. We talked for w hile and than i asked if he would mind looking after my camera tripod, since i had decided i wouldn't be using it at the game. He took me through to his living room and showed me where he would put it, 'just to be safe'.
On the walls of this equally brightly decorated room there were numerous photographs of a lady i immediately understood was his wife. I said i thought they were lovely pictures and he told me that Bety had died, 'a few years ago now'.
after the match Charlie gave me tea, a sandwich and some biscuits. He showed me some more photo's in an album and siad he woulnd't mind when i asked if i could take his picture. A week or so later i sent him the prints and a letter asking if it wouldn't be alright to come and visit him again. That is how our friendship started.
Charlie was a simple, gentle, man. He loved flowers and the names of flowers. He loved colour and surrounded himself with colour. He loved his wife. He seemed totally unambitious; all he wanted was for his children to be happy.
Occasionally he would ask if i'd like to listen to some music and then he might pla, for example, just three songs from a Nat King Cole LP; but we would really listen to them. Music was never something to have on in the background.
He loved words and had the most well thumbed dictionary i have ever seen. He did the Daily Mirror crossword every day. He was not a thinker, but he wondered. I bought him an atlas and he studied it in such detail, amazed by the world.
Without ever trying or intending to, he showed me that the most important things in life cost nothing at all. He was my antidote to modern living.'
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