I never really knew any of my four grandparents. My fathers' parents, Enoch and Harriet Ellen, both died when I was too young to retain any memory of them and of my mothers' parents - pictured above - it is only my grandmother Kate that I can vaguely remember as an old lady living with my Auntie Amy. My grandfather, Albert Beanland, died just months after I was born in 1948 and therefore I know him only through the strong, steady, sepia smile that echoes down the generations via a pile of old photographs. In this photograph he is pictured near the end of his life, smoking his pipe, wearing his favourite watch and chain and radiating a kind of Yorkshire bonhomie. It is interesting to note that this has obviously spread to Kate, his wife, because she too is smiling and from what little I can remember of her she wasn't a natural smiler. It's just a nice photograph, what we here in Yorkshire would call a grand photograph.
This is my Sepia Saturday photograph for this week because it is Saturday, the photograph has faded to sepia, and Albert is wearing a watch and smoking a pipe. I was going to Photoshop a tortoise hiding in the overgrown lawn, but I decided against it. For more Sepia Saturday posts from around the globe, make your way over to the Sepia Saturday Blog and follow the links.