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My late grandad was seriously in to his photography. He lived in a town house in East Ham so he'd often go in to the city and take photos of things that were halfway between everyday and quintessentially London, such as shoe shiners and beefeaters; or the same view from the river bank in day and night light.
Unfortunately, he started to fall apart just as digital cameras started to become available, then died a couple of years ago, so he never got to experiment with them. Unlike the stereotypical "anything developed after I've hit 40 is against the natural order of things" view one might expect, I'm sure he would have revelled in the revolution.
Hunting through some old boxes, I came across a load of old photos from an early family holiday and found this one, along with the usual "photo of my legs" and "photo of me in the mirror, taking a photo". I think I'm going to claim this one as "my first photo".
I looked so young.
I got a Brownie camera for my 10th birthday. This photo album was recently found in the attic by my ex-wife who sent it to me. I got it yesterday. I was living in Elliot Lake in Ontario at the time and we were on the family summer vacation - a road trip to Nova Scotia. The hand writing and spelling are... interesting!