Posted by Tania Kindersley.
One of the good things about tidying up is that you stumble across evocative old photographs. (I suppose the tidying is in itself a good thing, although it makes me mad with rage, mostly at myself, for letting things get in such a muddle in the first place.)
My sister is number one on the compound list today, because she saved me with chairs. Years ago, I rather rashly bought some beautiful 19th century French dining chairs, but they are so delicate that every time someone threw back their head with laughter (as so often happens at my dining table, of course) a fatal crack could be heard, and now they are all on their literal last legs, wobbly and entirely unsafe. I had terrible visions of Sarah tumbling to the floor in the most undignified manner. By outrageous good fortune, the lovely sister has some pretty limed chairs she no longer wants, so I am to collect them tomorrow and we shall all eat in safety.
So here is a little homage to my dear sister.
Just look at the sweetness:
Here she is with our grandmother, looking rather chic in her excellent green cardigan:
With older niece, as a baby:
And as a grown-up:
I also found this adorable one of my older brother, on the beach:
My dad, riding in a hurdle race, some time in the late fifties or early sixties:
My younger brother, at Hickstead, with the exact same expression of mad determination on his face:
And who is this Posy Posington? Yes, it is I. Look at me with my hat and my tennis racket. What on earth was I doing?
Here is my mum, doing her Grace Kelly thing:
How elegant she was. Take a look at this profile:
And there is my dad, all rakish in his flat cap:
Well, that's enough of the memory lane. I have miles to go before I sleep.
While I was rummaging about upstairs, trying to conjure order from chaos, someone decided it was time to check if the spare bed was all in order:
It appears to be up to her exacting standards:
Which is a tremendous relief all round.