A few years after my parents passed away, I was sorting out some old photographs. Historically, we had always had about four large albums, which held all the family photos dating back to about 1960. Prior to this, camera's were not something my family were able to afford, as far as I could tell and the ones we did have were something of a precious novelty. Having two sisters, the albums were divided up between us and the one I had contained mostly photographs of my own childhood, which was an idyllic time and leafing through the snaps, could quickly transport me back to that wonderful era. Most of the photographs, I was familiar with and recalled almost every instance of the shot being taken, but amongst them all, I came across a small square print of me and my dad, standing ankle deep in the sea at what I reasoned must be West Kirby beach on the Wirral. Seeing it, I wept openly - something I had struggled to do properly at the time of my fathers death, or later - but someth...
