The snapshots in my father’s book were taken during his first three years in London, after he emigrated from New Zealand with my mother. The picture shown here was taken at a Stepney street market. I wonder whether this was one of the photographs he had in mind when, some years later, in a review for the Listener, he wrote: ‘When a glum, derisive, sulky or tired face looks out at you, remember it is the photographer he is seeing – not you.’
