I suppose that searching for your dead dad on the internet is an exercise in narcissism, or perhaps a desperate attempt to conjur him in some sort of guise, any one will do.
He loved computers and the internet and though he was an intensely private person, I think it would have given him a certain smug satisfaction to find himself.
Imagine my surprise when I found a copy of this image in an online archive. We had the photo at home for as long as I can remember but we didn't know where or when the photo was taken.
Now we know. My dad in Roseburn (Edinburgh) Park on Coronation Day (1953 for those who don't know) aged 11. He's the boy Bisto Kid. The girl is Margaret Swan according to the archive.
2 comments:
Oh he is GORGEOUS!
Its a lovely, weird, bittersweet payback that we begin to see our parents as whole people, as more than the sum of their parts/ages/experiences, when they've gone. Its so hard to imagine the eleven year old them without the parent-child relationship in the way, during life. Or maybe this fullness only happens if they were treasured and added up to someone to be proud of.
Or maybe I'm just odd.
Ah, lovely.
And more healthy than googling for ex-boyfriends :/.
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