The Naked 'Photo Album - When I was Young...
Click here to visit the new version of this page.

THE NAKED PHOTO ALBUM
- WHEN I WAS -
YOUNG...

This page has some pictures of me looking as cute as I ever have. I can't swear to dimples, but I believe some may be there if you look close enough.

When you're finished with this page, use the links below to find more stuff:

When I was young...
Red Hot and Cool in Cyprus!
Who are you calling a cycle-path?
It's true, I am a real wheel nut!
I work(ed) hard for a living.
How do you get two Whales in a Mini...?
If you want to get ahead...
Wild-Wild-West-Country.
Two go Mad in Madeira!
Other fun-fun-fun in the sun-sun-sun.
Every album has them!
Home sweet home.
Just a stones throw away...
Holiday North of the Border.
So far, Herstmonceux good.
Barrr-Ceeee-Lo-Naaaa!
Rhodes signs.
Milan and/or bust.
Paul: A man and his women.

Back to the main Naked Photo Album index page.

PAUL'S THOUGHT: HAVEN'T I GROWN?
May 1972. My Mum has a go with me.July 2002. Haven't I grown! All over.
May 1972. I get water on my head. With my wicked Godmother Glenis in a supporting role.July 2002. Glenis is still alive, but was unavailable to try holding me four feet off the ground for this photograph.

May 1972 - June 2002

Left - 1972: When I was very little and looked a bit like Phil Collins (and less like Alexi Sayle) I got dipped in a font, by a man wearing a dress. Now I ask you, is that anyway to be exposed to the joy that is The Church of England? On the top, my mother (wearing a hat from the early 1970's) shows off my better side. By the way, I recall seeing that hat as a very young child. It's funny the things you remember, isn't it? On the bottom, my godmother (I showed her respect, just to be on the safe side) Glenis (apologies for the probable dodgy spelling) also wearing a hat from the early 1970's while I try to stare-out the photographer with my best evil-child look.

Right - 2002: Some 30 years and a couple of months later, I went back to Passenham (near Milton Keynes and the village of Wicken, where I lived until I was two) and was delighted to find it's a lovely, unspoilt place. In the top shot, the cross from the 1972 picture is still there, it's just over-grown with ivy, and in the second shot you can see how the gravel path has vanished over the years. You can also see how my hair has migrated over the years, following the accepted norm of heading South for the winter (of my life). I also shot some pictures of this churches amazing 'dragon' gargoyles. If you want to see them, you'll just have to visit the place for yourself.

PAUL'S THOUGHT: HAVEN'T I GOT BIG?
My first car! 1972 - The back yard in Wicken.

Summer 1972. (Can it be? Well, it says so on the back of the picture...)

Straight-six three-litre engine, fuel injection, electric sunroof and ABS. My first car had none of these. That didn't stop me from enjoying it though, as you can see. In the cars defence, it did have a completely flat aerodynamic under-tray.

PAUL'S THOUGHT: DOES HE TALK?
I get some Disney merchendise for my first birthday. For some reason, years later, I sold Mickey for 50p. What a fool I was. THE picture that gets shown to girlfriends by my mum.

November 1972.

Left: That wallpaper was totally legal when I was one. As was the sofa, but one imagines that's no longer true. This is me receiving a foam-rubber bendy Mickey Mouse when I was just 365 days old. I subsequently sold that Mickey when I was about 10 for 50p. What a moron I was. Still, a bit late to be moaning about being taken advantage of now...

Right: THE photograph which gets dragged out to show a new girlfriend by my mum. So much has changed in the (about) 30 years since this picture was taken. I no longer bathe with my brother. I'm no longer blonde and, bizarrely, I no longer have the baby blue eyes which I so clearly have in this shot. And that's it for major changes. (Sigh) I'm happy to say the good oral hygiene habits installed so early have paid dividends. I've never had a filling or an extraction from that day to this.

PAUL'S THOUGHT: MY RYE OBSERVATION:
IT JUST STANDS THERE, GENTLY SWAYING IN THE BREEZE
1973 - Those are what I call BABY-BLUE eles!

1973ish

The back of this photograph says 'Paul A. Smith - '73ish'. It's nice to know my parents took their duty to log my childhood so seriously. Now, what strikes me about this picture is not just my amazingly blue eyes (they're now green) but the fact that tho only thing in this shot that reminds me of me is the eyebrows! Other than changing colour, they're still the same shape and the hair still grows the same way. Isn't that amazing?

PAUL'S THOUGHT: YOU'VE SHOT UP! (NOT A DRUGS REFERENCE)
1974 - Playschool with Samantha.

Spring? 1974.

I started young! This was my Playskool pal Samantha and I playing. Well, I say playing. I think we were actually fighting over a worm, which eventually stretched out to three times it's usual body length. And then snapped. Thus I was only able to eat half the worm. Damn that greedy bitch Samantha.

PAUL'S THOUGHT: WHERE ARE THE CLOWNS? (WHERE INDEED?)
July 1975 - My brother Adams 6th birthday party.

July 1975.

I may look like a little angelic bundle of loveliness, but little did the other children at my brothers 6th birthday party know that I'd wee'd in the fruit cordial. As you see from my expression, I'd just remembered what I'd done after taking a sip myself. Hoisted by my own petard!

PAUL'S THOUGHT: LIVE FAUST, DIE JUNG.
Late 70's? - 'Safely' tucked in behind by brother Adam.

Some time in the 1970's.

I've always had the need, the need for speed. Here I am 'safely' tucked in behind my brother Adam, waiting for instructions from the steward before attempting a 'special stage'. We often built rickety wooden go-carts from bits of prams and raced friends down a steep hill in Steeple Claydon called Vickerage Close. It's got a hell of a corner at the bottom of it, a scar on my knee reminds me...

PAUL'S THOUGHT: PUPPY LOVE.
THEY CAN ARREST YOU FOR IT YOU KNOW.
Taken by my brother, this is my father Mike, my mum Jean and me on the Isle of Wight in 1976. But doesn't it look like 1966? 1977 - Patio in Steeple Claydon, swatting after a hard day at school with Heather. 1979 - Blackgang Chine - Isle of Wight, where I took many holidays.

1976-79.

Left: Note my tongue is out. What a scamp I was. This picture was taken by my brother, so we can only imagine the length of his collars.

Centre: My little friend Heather and I after school one hot day in 1977. She was the first girl I ever kissed, and I remember thinking 'is this what all the fuss is about?' She was a great buddy and I've often wondered what became of her. If you know a Flame-haired (it doesn't show in this shot, I know) Scottish girl called Heather who used to live in Steeple Claydon in Bucks, e-mail me please!

Right: I remember the day when Adam (on the left) and I commandeered this tank and roared into Kabul... So clearly a lie it hurts. In fact a shot taken at one of my childhood haunts, Blackgang Chine on the Isle of Wight, in 1979.

PAUL'S THOUGHT: WHY DID I HAVE TO GROW UP?
SORRY, I MEANT WHY DO I HAVE TO GROW UP?
June 11th 1980 - Back garden in Steeple Claydon (Bucks) August 1981 - A glider landed in the field behind our house, after swooping over our roof. I'm pushing it whilst trying to get a stone out of my sock. Also in August 1981 I was on holiday in Cornwall. This is Adam and I at a tin mine. Here I at the village a greatful Prince Charles had named after me.

1980-81.

Left: June 11th 1980. Those wellington Boots and I were inseparable for several years I recall. Heather and I erect a proper old-fashioned tent in the back garden of my childhood home on Queen Catherine's Road in Steeple Claydon. Note cracking view of fields, where I used to make some buildings from hay-bales which would have been visible from space, they were that big!

Left Centre: Having missed out roof by mere feet, it seemed, this glider went on to land in the field behind our house, where I and several other locals (that's my dad on the right) tried to take it back to our nest. However, the man in the hat stopped us. Darn, there was good eatin' on that thing as well.

Right Centre: Me. Adam. Cornwall. 1981. Say no more. (Other than to add that you can see me being stupid in the Cornwall village of Paul in this 1.25Mb mpeg movie, taken in 2002.)

Right (or is it bottom?): Me, again in Cornwall in 1981, but without Adam. I revisited this village in 2002, and you can see a picture and some video on my Wild-Wild-West Country NPA Page. It's worth noting that, as a child I never noticed, and no one ever told me, that the green alien on this t-shirt (note: Orange. Nothing changes) is giving an exteremly offensive gesture. Who knows how many old women I upset before I grew out of it?

PAUL'S THOUGHT: I HAVE GROWN. A BIT.
In about 1982 I learnt to ride a bike. I was a late starter. Note the huge feet, pale complexion and patches on my knees. Seaside fun with Adam, my brother. .

1982 and later.

Left: Queen sang 'I want to ride my bicycle' and so in 1982 I thought I'd give it a shot too. Note the patches on my knees. Aye, times was 'ard. I believe this is the very bicycle that I later, with the help of my brother and father, invented mountain-biking with. We were on holiday in Wales and decided to save 15 miles of riding on roads by just popping across a mountain. How I remember laughing (in fear and pain) as we carried the bikes on our shoulders, leaping from enormous bolder to enormous bolder...

Centre: I have no idea what had happened to make me run from the sea like that. Had I glimpsed a sharks fin? Or is the truth visible in Adams evil half-smile? That's not an inner tube he's sitting on by the way. We had a family killer-whale we used to take on holiday with us to sit and ride on. I wonder where Orca is now? We had a hell of a job flushing him down the toilet when he'd got too big to keep... But that, as they say, is a story (or saga, in this case) for another day.

Can you come back next Tuesday?

Right: School photographs, since they're taken by professionals with years of experience, are always sympathetic, flattering studies of their subject. Conversely, you could argue that a man expected to photograph 600 children in a little more than 3 hours won't want to hang about, fussing with details like miss-matched ears and dumb-ass wistful looks, staring off into the middle distance like some sort of stunned Meerkat. I think, looking at the picture above, I know which chain of reasoning I'd tug.

PAUL'S THOUGHT: AT WORK THEY TOLD ME THEY WERE KEEPING
ME IN THE LOOP. IT TURNED OUT TO BE MORE OF A NOOSE.
This picture has the words 'A very rare photo of Paul working' written on the back of it.

The Boy becomes a Man.

This picture has the words, a very rare photo of Paul working written on the back of it, which I feel is rather cruel. A slur of my good name, even. I shall be seeking legal advice and may yet sue my father for emotional scaring and damages. Anyway, I think this picture answers an ages-old question. It isn't how many roads a man has to walk down that determine his adulthood, it's the number of sheds he's painted.

Click here to return to the 'Naked' Photo Album index pageClick here to return to the Naked Photo Album index page.Click here to return to the 'Naked' Photo Album index page

Or use the photograph-free Flash Banner below!