IT was supposed to be one of my husband's retirement projects: to sort out the heaps of old photographs we have tucked away in drawers and boxes all over the house.

When our children were very small, we used to select the best pictures and put them in albums. We'd bring them out when we had visitors, show them to aunts and uncles and grandparents. Later, we did that despicable thing you swear you'll never do - we brought the albums out to show the latest girl or boyfriend. I rather think it's something nearly all parents do, no matter what their good intentions are. Nowadays, our son and daughter actually enjoy getting out the old albums and browsing through them; especially the ones showing their parents wearing the hairstyles and clothes of the seventies - "Those flares!"

But our photograph albums are stuck in time. There's hardly anything in them from the last 25 years. We've plenty of empty albums.

My husband buys up all the special offers and brings them home in triumph. But he's still not got round to putting more than a handful of photos in them.

The trouble is, it's very hard after all this time to remember when many of the photos were taken. My mother-in-law always used to say: "Be sure to write the date on the back." She was quite right, and occasionally we took that advice. But mostly, we were in too much of a rush to do more than glance at the photos and push them back in the folder and then into a drawer.

There's one type of photo that's hardest of all to date - the one taken at Christmas or Easter. There must be hundreds of them by now, because almost without exception, we always get the camera out at these times when the family's gathered together. There have been 34 Christmases and Easters since our first child was born, so that's an awful lot of photos - and they all have a certain sameness about them.

There's the tree and the crib, the family sitting round opening presents, the festive table; and the Easter egg hunt in the garden.

Sometimes, the hairstyles and clothes can help in dating the photos, but not always. It's going to be a matter of guesswork putting them in the right album, labelling them.

Now there's another batch of that annual favourite, the Easter egg hunt. It's been a low-key thing in recent years, since our son and daughter grew up. We've usually gone along with hiding a few foil-wrapped eggs in the garden after Easter day dinner (even in the snow, one year), but with only adults to hunt for them, there doesn't really seem a lot of point. Still, the photos are there to prove it happened; three generations, wandering round the garden.

This year was different. This year, there were four generations in the garden. We've a new batch of photos, and one small figure stands out: blonde hair, red dungarees, green wellies. He's pictured peering intently into the flowerbed or the hedge, being lifted up on Grandad's shoulders for a better view, delightedly examining the expanding contents of his little red basket, peeling off the foil from one of his finds; stuffing a whole egg into his mouth. Everyone else is joining in the hunt too, from Great Gran downwards, but mostly so they can steer the little one in the right direction.

This year's photos will surely be easy to date: Jonah's first Easter egg hunt, aged two-and-a-half. We'll remember it always, but if there should ever be any danger of forgetting, the photos will remind us.

Or will they? We've already taken a good many photos since then. The folders are mounting up again. The heap on top of the bookcase is starting to slither around and topple over. The albums are still empty.

Something is going to have to be done. The trouble is, filling those albums was a winter project, but now it's summer again and the garden calls. It's the time of year when my husband's out there digging and planting from dawn till dusk (weather permitting). There's now no question of sticking any photos in albums before next winter.

But there is one thing we can do. Sadly, my mother-in-law's no longer around to remind us to write the date it was taken on the back of each picture. But that's no reason why we can't take her very good advice.

Then at least when - if - we ever do get round to sticking them in the albums, we'll know exactly what order to put them in.

On the other hand, we could just invest in a digital camera and get rid of the clutter for ever. Or would it just mean a different kind of clutter?

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