The home video

Producing part of a recent video inspired me to unearth our family's home video from its riveted-shut safety box. It's incredible to think about how mundane capturing video is now, with most electronic devices more sophisticated than a toaster able to do it - our video in the early 90s came into being after my dad borrowed a gigantic shoulder-mounted camcorder from work, and shows very brief moments of our young lives, but now my friends on Facebook are taking videos of every meal their baby has. (Well, I say 'friends' - I blocked them all once they started doing that, obviously.)

I'm not sure why I was suddenly willing to release a grainy video of a seven-year-old me singing hymns after previously wanting to just bury the thing forever, but after finding that part, we sat down and watched the whole thing. I'm certainly not going to release the whole thing online, but I will take notes as I go through it so that I can relate at least the shape of the horror to you.

My young voice is so English! I must have picked up more of a Scottish accent over time, but I didn't notice it happening.

The most embarrassing thing is how much singing there is in this - spontaneous hymns everywhere. It's like we grew up as Rod and Todd.

My brother notices the camera and starts singing Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer while simultaneously stuffing Billy Bear meat into his mouth

The house is full of German stuff and everyone bursts into song every five minutes. Our house was like The Sound of Music.

Toby was a really beautiful cat. Pushkin wasn't, but RIP anyway.

My mother is very camera-shy, but my dad eventually gets her - she is the 80s personified, massive hair and glasses made out of jam jars.

Now she's spilled pancake batter all down her jumper. Should have sent that to Jeremy Beadle and won up to £200.

How many children can fit under that rolltop desk? (More than you would think.)

There are so many people in this video that I haven't seen for twenty years! Having a borrowed camcorder meant our house was Party Central.

Sitting with back rigid at the piano, announcing the titles and telling my brother off for messing me up. I was a regular mini Sakuya.

Oh dear god, now the violin's come out. Please make it stop.

"Songs" that use only the open strings, very slightly out of tune with the piano accompaniment. Sometimes the first finger is involved.

This is a special kind of torture. I can't believe my parents acted like they were proud of this.

Are we seriously going to go through the whole fucking book?

Dad eventually discovers the fade knob and puts it to good use.

I definitely have the most screen time here... a lot of it enforced by me. I'm now describing the homemade Christmas decorations.

I really wanted to be Tony Hart.

The title "Besuch bei Martina" appears on screen in a very 90s bevel font.

This part of the video must have been taken when Martina visited from Germany, and then copied on to the VHS later.

Going down the garden slide with the boy next door, in his acid-washed pleated jeans. Slides are seriously not this exciting.

I never realized how hideously boxy our car was - I think it was a VW Polo! It looks like someone built it in Minecraft.

She's filming in the windows as my dad tutors one of his students - this looks a bit like a video taken through a stalker's telescope.

Martina is filming around the house - Commander Keen 4 is being played on the computer!

Now singing a Doric song in the garden, which Whitney can't understand at all. Neither can I - it might as well be Welsh.

I am pretending to be Julius Caesar by draping a rhubarb leaf across my head.

Wow, we just saw my dad for the first time this video! He'd always been behind the camera. I'd just assumed he looked the same as now.

That moustache certainly went out of fashion when Saddam Hussein started wearing it.

Now we're down by the river, throwing bread to the ducks while this German visitor directs us as to velocity and angle.

This has now become a white noise generator. Germans must hold an unknowable fascination for disinterested waterfowl.

The garden is mildly sunny! Everyone has dragged the patio chairs into the garage to get out of the sweltering 50-degree weather.

Oh dear god, now we're all in the bath. If you film something like this these days you just get arrested.

Filming in the bedroom my brother and I shared. The Amstrad is in the corner and I'm reading "Danny the Champion of the World".

I'm demonstrating my knowledge of sign language! Which is a huge surprise because I don't remember ever learning any.

Next door, my dad is reading Mr Happy to the twins in bed. I want to be like my dad. Except without the moustache.

The Easter Aquhorthies stone circle! Put at the edge of the town by ancient druids for no apparent reason. (I don't know how to pronounce it either)

A jarring American accent in the middle of all this - must be Mary, who panders to stereotypes by owning the gun shop across the road!

Another impressive bevelled title: "Tschüss! Bis zum nächsten Besuch!" (Bye! Until the next visit!)

But instead, it's over. For ever.