Wordless Wednesday: the boy-child and his grandmother

My son with his grandmother, 1998. Photo: Su Leslie.

My son with his grandmother, 1998. Photo: Su Leslie.

It’s been a few years since the boy-child spent time with my mother, who now lives in the UK. Mum played a huge part in my son’s early life and both she and the boy are excited about our trip to England in a few weeks.

Travel theme: laughter

The boy-child, aged 8, shares a joke with two of his London-based cousins. He will seen them again in a few weeks when we visit the UK again as a family for the first time in nine years. Photo: Tony Gray, 2006.

The boy-child, aged 8, sharing a joke with two of his London-based cousins. Photo: Tony Gray, 2006.

In life, we travel through time as well as place, and laughter is a good companion on these journeys.

It’s been almost nine years since our little family travelled together to the UK; the place of both mine and the boy-child’s birth. But the tickets are booked, and we leave in a month for a holiday that will include San Fransisco, Munich and Bordeaux as well as England. We’re excited to be visiting friends and relatives; and though we know we will won’t have enough time with these (geographically) distant members of our whanau, we hope for lots of laughter and new memories to keep us company until the next visit.

This post was written as part of Ailsa’s Travel Theme at Where’s my Backpack. You can find out more here.

Wordless Wednesday: Hogmanay

Although I'm fairly sure this photo wasn't taken at Hogmanay, this time of year will always be associated with my parents and their wider families. Being Scots, Hogamany is far more important to them than Christmas. In this photo: from top left my dad's uncle Bill, my mum, dad, dad's cousin's wife Jean, my great aunt Bessie (barely visible), Dad's cousin Ann, my uncle David and his wife Pat. Kirkcaldy, Scotland, c. late 1950s.

Although I’m fairly sure the photo wasn’t taken at Hogmanay, this time of year always makes me think of my parents and their families. Being Scots, Hogmanay is far more important to them than Christmas, and they used to have huge parties to celebrate the new year. In this photo: from top left my dad’s uncle Bill, my mum and dad, Dad’s cousin’s wife Jean, my great aunt Bessie (barely visible), Dad’s cousin Ann, his brother David and his wife Pat. Kirkcaldy, Scotland, c. late 1950s.

Six Word Saturday: fifty years since my grandad died

Grandad, with my younger brother Craig. Kirkcaldy, Scotland, c. Mar-Apr 1964. Photo: Leslie family archive.

Grandad, with my younger brother Craig. Kirkcaldy, Scotland, c. Mar-Apr 1964. Photo: Leslie family archive.

On Boxing Day, 1964, my grandfather David Leslie lost his battle with lung cancer. He was part of my life for such a short time, but left me with lots of wonderful memories.

Six word Saturday: whatever happened to these likely lads?

Out on the town; my Dad (far right) and friends, Kirkcaldy, Scotland, c. 1952. Photo: Leslie family archive.

Out on the town; my Dad (far right) and friends, Kirkcaldy, Scotland, c. 1952. Photo: Leslie family archive.

I’ve always loved this photo and was really pleased to find it in an album my dad sent to me recently. He’d written underneath that the man on the far left is his friend Joe Malone, and of course I recognise my dad on the right, but I have no idea who the others are. They’ll all be in their 80s now.