We're decorating our office space at work, and have been asked to bring in photos that have a Christmas theme for display. Out came all the photo albums tonight and I've had a blast going through them all. I have a lot of photo albums - mine, my mother's and some of my father's so it was a big job. What a lovely time, though, especially going through my parents' albums and seeing all the photos they kept of my son, growing up, and also of me, and knowing that we were both loved.

It's also fun seeing the clothes I've worn at different times and remembering how much I loved that dress or those sneakers, some of which I'd still wear now if I had them. I also enjoyed seeing my mutating hair styles, from the long curls of my teens, to my blonde adventure, the poodle perm I sported in the eighties and the almost-military buzz cut of the early nineties. None of which was particularly flattering! I was also surprised by the number of photos in which I have a fag in my hand - it's been fifteen years since I smoked and now it looks so alien.

One other thing that surprised me, though, was my reaction to the year 1976; I picked up my mum's album from that year and literally thought "and this is when it all fell apart." I'd never consciously thought about my parents' separation and later divorce in those terms before but obviously it affected me much more than I realised.

I treasure my parents' albums. The move to digital photos and online archives is a good one, in some respects, but I do wonder what will happen to a family's memories if the photos aren't in a physical form when the custodian of the photos passes away, and there are no albums to pass down the line.