I think I am 3 years old here. My dad surely took the shot - photography was a father's privilege then. My mother was a skilled needlewoman so the outfit was likely her work.
My fistful of snowdrops and the bare bushes lead me to think the month was January. Plus my birthday falls just a few days before Christmas so the rather large pram and doll were probably gifts.
We lived in a two-up, two-down cottage in Paper Mill Lane in a rural village called Claydon in the county of Suffolk. I remember my mother telling me that when the river at the bottom of the garden flooded, the beloved piano was taken upstairs to safety. She also told me that a toy I had - a wooden butterfly, on a stick with wheels, whose wings fluttered up and down when moved along - was made by a German PoW.
I was born the year after my dad, himself, returned from time in PoW camps in North Africa, Italy and Germany. There was inevitably, I guess, 'stuff' to cope with for both of my parents, but the new life must have been a welcome domestic and happy time.
We did, thank you - I guess you are busy! (We did book Hinton Ampner but had to cancel as Ray has been unwell. Feeling better now but frustrated with the NHS follow-up.)
SO Precious to see and read this here, Hazel! What a touching memory, and how it resonates as so many of us are so very close in age with similar memories! My dad took so many photos...my mother, probably no interest! It was my grandmothers who knitted and made cute outfits for me! Aren't our good memories a wonderful thing?!
We did, thank you - I guess you are busy! (We did book Hinton Ampner but had to cancel as Ray has been unwell. Feeling better now but frustrated with the NHS follow-up.)