You know what it’s like. It’s late. You’ve been scanning some old family photographs. You’re tired, but not quite ready for bed just yet. And anyway, there are a still a couple of millimetres of that 10 year old Laphroaig left in the glass. It would be a shame to rush it. It’s important to have some alcohol gel on the inside, as well as the outside, in these difficult times. So you start messing. There is that photo of your mother, father and brother in all its sepia dullness. Why don’t we give my mother a nice coloured coat? And wouldn’t my father look good in a red check shirt? And as for little Roger, bless him, why not a yellow raincoat?
In the cold light of the following morning, you know that the original is more authentic, you know that some of the colours look a bit silly. But, what the hell! It’s about time that someone put some colour into the family tree. Now, it’s just a matter of waiting for my brother to email me to point out that the coat was green, not yellow!