Our Frances is twenty seven now but I just have to close my eyes and I can remember her as a baby, as a toddler, as a little schoolgirl and as a university student. The time flies by like images you see from an express train, thundering through the countryside. The baby girl is now an independent woman making her own way in the world. I blinked and almost missed the transformation.
Working in London now, her office are organising something called a "baby shower" for a pregnant colleague. Part of this involves a display of baby pictures. She asked me to scan two or three for her and by the magic of the internet spirit them down to her desk in Victoria House, Holborn in the dark heart of our nation's capital city.
The photos were taken between 1988 and 1990 in a world where the internet was still just a boffin's dream. Nobody had smart phones or digital cameras. If you took photos they were on film and after you had clicked your thirty six pictures, you sent off the celluloid roll to "Bonus Print" or "Max Spielmann" for processing. Now all of that seems like ancient history. The idea of cavemen making arrowheads springs to mind.
|Baby Frances on Shirley's shoulder|
|At two in France, wearing her Snoopy sunglasses|
|Later that same year with the old mischief in her eyes.|
Blessed we are to have such a lovely daughter. In fact we are double-blessed to also have an equally lovely son. To be young these days is not easy. Work and the cost of living. Rent and bills. The pressure of targets and Facebook and trolls and customer satisfaction surveys. What to eat and what not to eat. Staying fit. Having fun. Jager bombs and e-mail scammers, Islamic extremists and child molesters. Where oh where is normality? Though it seems like yesterday when I snapped those photos, in many ways the world has become a different place.