Coming to life again
Thanks to my son's discovery of a site where you can colourise old photos, I've been able to see my parents in their youth come strangely alive in this photo. I don't know what year it's from, but that's my father's Glasgow University blazer he's wearing, so it can't have been much later than 1930. For some reason the process has given my mother black stockings - I suspect she was bare-legged with ankle socks, given that it's clearly summer.
This was scanned from a tiny photo - one of these little glossy jobs in a small paper wallet from the processor, only about 3" tall. But my loft - and other places as well in the midden I call home - conceal literally hundreds of black-and-white photographs taken, and processed, by my father, who had a darkroom in both the houses where we lived. He owned a Leica II, which I now have, and a Rolleiflex, which my mother preferred, and both parents won prizes for their photos before the war. But this was clearly taken by a friend, and is one of a collection of really old photos of relatives, some of whom I recognise, others being totally unknown.
And this blip suits a day in which I have been out to Pilates and to prune a very thorny rosa rugosa but have not even thought of taking a photo. Though I have yet to see if Blipfoto accepts it as belonging to today ...