Where do you get your love of photography from? I think I get it from my parents. My dad took hundreds of photos of my mum. She was clearly his favourite subject. They met when she was 15, he was 17. I’d love to say they stayed together forever more, but they didn’t; by the time I was two years old they’d split up, so in total their relationship probably lasted 7 years or so.

When he moved to Germany, my dad gave me a scrapbook full of photos he’d taken of mum; I put them in an album. One day I’ll scan the entire thing.

Me and Mum, taken by my Dad.

Mum, taken by my Dad in the Isle of Wight

My dad is particularly proud of the photos of my mum that he took while they were on holiday on the Isle of Wight. I grew up seeing boxes and boxes of photos at his house. But mum sometimes took photos too.

Mum, probably age 15 outside the family house in Ruislip

I don’t know if mum had a Polaroid camera. But I really wanted one. The idea that the photograph would appear immediately was just magical for me. I had to give my films to an adult in the vain hope that they would take them to a local chemist or photography shop to be developed. Occasionally they did, but most of the time they didn’t. I’d usually have film though; when you got a film developed they’d give you a free one, but most of the wider family only used them for photographs of holidays, birthdays and Christmas.

Mum and Dad, station photobooth, London, 1960s

Me as a child with a talking Yogi Bear. You’d pull the bead on it’s belly button and it would say something like, “Smarter than the average bear.”

Me, family holiday in Italy

Mum, 1960s taken by my dad

Mum and my dad’s sister Janet

Mum and dad’s sister Janet