My big sis baby-sat me today while the other-half foolishly went to watch football. Ta big sis. I wasn’t on form as I’d had a bit of a ropey night but we had a good look through some family photos that had come from my parents’ house a few years ago. So I was able to admire hairstyles (especially mine), outfits and home decoration of the last umpteem years. Were the early 70s entirely brown and orange? Was it illegal not to have a moustache? And how did my sisters manage to tuck all their clothes into their knickers to go paddling in the sea?
Because I’m (rightly) terrified of all my family, the picture above is of the older generation (my parents’ wedding) rather than of anyone who might come round and punch me. Spiffy photo isn’t it? How they managed to put on such a show in 1946 (with clothing rationing still in force I think) I just don’t know.
Now I await the return of a very depressed other-half who has just watched his team lose yet again. I keep telling him to support a good team instead, but he doesn’t listen. You just can’t help some people can you?