I remember you as a solid, serious and sometimes grumpy man, with wispy white hair and a waistcoat. As a child, I didn't believe in your grumpiness and made you play in the sand-pit with me with a little bucket and spade, as I thought that would cheer you up. I believe the assembled company held their breath.
So here you are before the First World War stole your joie de vivre, looking (I must say) a trifle camp and very jolly, with a lustrous head of hair and a happy smile. That war was a steamroller of misery (as they all are), destroying a generation and stealing the lives of even those who managed to 'survive'.