Little Baby Nothing

On Monday night, after epic torrential rain, we were finally treated to the annual flooding of our entire basement. I got back in the early hours of the morning just in time to play that fun variation of Russian roulette: Switch The Electrics Off Whilst Standing Up To Your Ankles In A Giant Pool Of Water. (It's all incredibly thrilling, even if you don't have some Vietnamese bloke shouting "di di mao!" at you every few seconds).

So onto today's picture. When tasked with sending me important information from the bank, my mother somehow contrived, in a Herculean feat of absent-mindedness, to instead send me a picture of herself as a baby. I think the shot was taken on a trip into Birmingham with my grandmother in the late Forties, when one of the department stores that hadn't been bombed into oblivion was offering gimmicks like photographs to get money into the till again.

She looks happy in her own world, either way. And as long as she's not trying to cook dinner in the washing machine, or build a car entirely out of wool, I'm happy with that too.