We’ve been looking at a lot of old photos recently, sorting out my father’s collection after his death in January. The photo of Dad that terribly hot summer in Switzerland – the one and only time I remember him wearing shorts. The photo he took of the family here – five of us, and we’re all glaring in different directions and no one is looking at the camera… And quite a few of the older kind where you wonder, who/what/when/where was this? But there’s nobody left to ask.
Then there are the really old ones, and I so appreciate having these. My grandparents as children, taken over a century ago. This one’s my maternal grandmother, aged about four, maybe? She was the only grandparent I knew; the others all died before I was born. Granny didn’t belong to a well-off family, but they were into photos in a big way, and I’m so glad now. This one was taken in Edinburgh, where she lived as a child.
Their first child, little David, died of spina bifida aged just four months. I remember her talking about him, wondering how different all our lives might have been, if he’d lived. So many families would go through similar tragedies in those days.
We only have one photo of my paternal grandparents together, and there are questions attached to this that neither my father nor his brother knew the answers to. The photo was taken on their wedding day, in Bombay, India. Why were they there? It could hardly have been a holiday. Maybe my grandmother’s family lived there for a while, for whatever reason? We may never know…
What stories old photos conceal – and how I wish they could talk!
My feel-good novellas are both well and truly out now. Highlight was a (brief but giddy) number one spot in the Switzerland holiday category.
I’ve been guesting with the novellas on other people’s blogs over the past two weeks, huge thanks to all. You can catch up with these posts here:
Helen Pollard’s Blog
Simona’s Corner of Dreams
Emma the Little Bookworm