My dad is always giving me things. Boxes of junk, gadgets and family memorabilia.
It goes without saying that the latter is always the most precious to me.
He recently passed on a very old photo frame from the early 1950s. He told me it had been by his side as a permanent companion during the two years of his National Service.
Here is what he had filled it with. My Mum, then aged 18 and just beautiful.
On the back my Mum has written messages of love, and dad has meticulously dated them.
They were rarely apart for the next 53 years until her death, and I hope that he never lost that first flush of love which cuts through this flimsy bit of plastic like a knife through butter.