I grew up in a small two-room apartment in copenhagen, denmark. While he was still around, my Dad took this photo of my mother, my sister and me.

I was born at home, not in a hospital. It was 18 Sep 1952. My mother said she wasn't sick, she was just pregnant, so there was no need to go and see a doctor; a midwife came and helped out. 

A few hours old, and with a face only a mother could love! A father maybe also.

This is my birth certificate. My parents are listed as Art-painter Asbjorn Strange and wife Ebba Marie Henriksen. That is a bit of a stretch I believe. My father was only 24 at the time and would like to see himself as an artist, but it was the 'wife' who held the household together. My father never made any money from his art, while my mother worked her butt off as a kindergarten teacher.  

However, my father was not without talent and certainly not without enthusiasm. He dabbled in abstract paintings, music and ... yes, photography; he made his own b/w prints. They may not always have been top notch, but at least I have plenty of pictures from my early childhood, while he was still around. 

I was even photographed in my birth outfit. Hey, I PROMISE, this will be the only nude photo that will turn up in my memoirs! 

I grew up close to my sister - literally. We shared the same room in our tiny two-room apartment. She was 2 years and three months when I was born. Since my mother gave birth at home, Lena was put in a taxicab on her own and sent off to a relative nearby. She remembers all the details of that - how much do you remember from when you were two years old?