I stumbled upon this picture while hoovering – literally as I fell over an old box which looked worthy of exploration. I almost remember my dad taking it (definitely with a Rollei): it was in the garden of our first house in Kensington, London.
It looks like I’d been crying, which I used to do a lot, though I can’t remember the reasons. Off the top of my adult head it was probably because I was spoilt rotten and wanted to do – or have – something, and hadn’t been given permission. 🙂
In the same box I also found a bundle of short stories I wrote yonks ago, which should make entertaining reading for the long, windy, rain-sodden June evenings we’re having.