Old And Battle Scarred?

I'm talking about the photo, although probably I would now fit into that category, if I'm honest. However, this is another of my Bro's 'Candid Camera' shots which has survived the rigours of its trip to New Zealand, and its immersion in his flooded basement at some point. It's badly discoloured and spotted, but I've gently touched up the faces, so that my daughter and I don't look as though we have some kind of white measles.

I was searching for a suitable picture for Sepia Saturday this morning, and happened upon this relic before looking at the subject they'd chosen. Imagine my surprise when I discovered I'd actually chosen a compatible theme - sort of. 'Wars, cooking, chairs or fires', were the subjects on offer.

Fires I can discount totally - the one in Mum and Dad's sitting room would be behind you, as you look at the screen! But how's this for the rest?

• I was born in the war.
• There's a high chair  and a piano stool in view.
• What looks like remains of a Christmas Pudding sit on a dish in the foreground, in the shambolic aftermath of some large family gathering.

The cards and presents on the top of the piano suggest the Festive Season.The year has to have been 1968, when daughter was just one year old (bless!) and still tiny enough to wear a matinée jacket she'd had since birth!

On the tray of the highchair, that striped, fluffy thing was Wol, without whom we never went anywhere. He was made from strips of sheepskin glued onto a roll of corrugated cardboard, and had a dear little owl face with two large beady glass eyes and a cheeky expression, if only you could have seen it in this photo.

You will understand the colours are totally false when I tell you, at that age, daughter's hair was the brightest of bright copper - like a new penny- while mine was never more than mouse...