The green folder had been hidden in my cupboard since 1976. It was a treasure trove

The discovery of folders of negatives from nearly 50 years ago creates a photographic time machine for the original snapper.

Old pictures in an exhibition of work by women photographers, one of whom had taken candid shots of life in an inner-city share house in the 1970s. Standing in the gallery, admiring them, it suddenly hit me: hang on, I also took photos in and around a share house in the ’70s.

I thought I knew. So, later, I rummaged in some cupboards and there it was – an old-style, half-arch file with an inscription in black capital letters on the spine: OLD NEGS etc. The “etc” suggested a less-than-scientific filing system.

Inside, above pages of film negatives in opaque paper sleeves, was another folder in an alarming shade of bright green – a souvenir from a business management conference in 1976. Not something I ever attended. But there, at the bottom, was this: With Compliments, John Scott Educational Book Supply.

Of course. The Book Supply place was my holiday job over several summers, after school and in my uni years – mundane work with the benefit of close proximity to books and surplus stationery like conference folders. It was the first job that lasted long enough for me to save money and splurge some on a new camera and one lens. Then I was away.

I was a black-and-white guy from the start, largely because of its DIY element. Colour meant sending films away for development; black-and-white negatives could be processed in an improvised darkroom like the one I created in my North Carlton share-house bathroom, with boards over windows and a sign forbidding entry to thoughtless people needing to use the toilet.

Tucked inside the folder were 10 slim negative files that opened like a concertina, some with much more information on the back than others. The first (I numbered them) had a pencil inscription: St Kilda/Luna Park/Melbourne General Cemetery, Sunday 30/1/77. A lot of ground covered in one day, ending with angel statues in the cemetery, close to where I lived.

But another folder left me guessing: Carlton Kids/City … and no date. I must have thought I’d remember. The flimsy negatives were in good shape: none torn; none stuck to their sleeves. I’d be amazed if our disc drives or memory sticks are readable in another 49 years. (I’ll never find out, so don’t worry about this much.)

Holding the negatives up to a window, I could read them once again – everything back-to-front, clear for black and black for white. Some I remembered: ah yes, the pensive little girl alone on a Luna Park ride. I also found contact sheets for most of the ro