The award goes to my Dad, resplendent in this sky-blue aran knitted by my Grandma, no doubt from a pattern in Woman’s Weekly. Mine and Helen’s cardis aren’t half bad either (I am the one in the middle, and am wearing my hair in plaits). We are photographed up by the allotments, where my Dad grew his vegetables before the advent of his garden. Thirty years later, he still looks much the same, except for a happy lack of cigarettes and sideburns.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!