C. 1953.
When we went on holiday my father would hire a car for a fortnight (we couldn't afford to own one) and we would drive off to stay with relations. Here I am with my younger brother on an uncle's farm outside Aberystwyth. As the older brother I was allowed to take the reins once milk churns had been loaded aboard and direct the horse up the quarter mile farm track to the main road. There were no side turnings on the track and the old horse plodded its way up the hill twice a day, for day after day, and year after year so there was not much fear of him getting lost but I applied myself single-mindedly to the task of guiding him along. When we got to the road my uncle would take over control to get the cart across the road and park up next to the concrete milk stand to unload the churns.
I seem to be in my junior school uniform, complete with cap, even though we were on holiday. Perhaps I liked it, or perhaps I didn't have any alternative clothing.
