I never saw any photos of my dad as a boy, because my grandmother, suffering from dementia in her later years, destroyed all the family albums.
But recently my sister visited my aunt and managed to get hold of this photo.
The little boy on the left, looking away from the camera, is my dad.
It is a tantalising glimpse into the boy he was. All I know of his childhood is the few memories he shared with us – my granddad drawing Disney characters to entertain my dad and his siblings during the war, bread and dripping eaten as a treat, that kind of thing.
Today it’s 23 years since my dad died.
I wish I’d asked him more about his childhood when he was around. And I wish that I could see the little boy’s face in this photo.