Sunday, 19 June 2011

Father's Day

When my father was de-mobbed from the army at the end of the 2nd World War he arrived home to a small daughter that he did not know. He thought that I was 'running wild' and in need of strict discipline. I was defiant; a total stranger had come to live in our house and was bossing me about. He had no right!
You've heard the story of David and Goliath - you know how it ends. It took my father a while to realise how similar we were, and, in spite of my diminutive  size, how evenly matched. 
He was a lively, interesting and loving father and my resentment soon disappeared. We became the closest of friends and stayed that way until his death at the age of ninety-one, at the start of the new millennium.


  1. He looks like a very distinguished fellow.
    You two shared something very special and so nice that you shared your memories with us today.

    It's difficult not having them around to honour them in person but their spirit lives on in our hearts.

  2. A very suave shot of your dad, Miss. He looks like Fernando Rey in a Bunùel film.

  3. Dear Starting Over and Hostess, He was a lot of fun and is much missed, although he still very much travels with me.

    Dear Tom, a touch of the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie perhaps? (Although he did get to eat the ice-cream, a treat with my daughters, fitted in between lunch and dinner. They knew that expression on his face very well!)