What can I say about my lovely caring father? I have nothing but praise for him. He died aged ninety-seven and was until the very last, the most gentle, kindest, and loving man I know, except maybe for my husband of fifty three years who comes in extremely close.
I have few memories of life when I was very young. I remember my dad making a doll’s pram for me out of old crisp tins. Money must have been short at the time and at least the improvised pram stopped me crying. Also I remember him whitening my sandals for Easter Sunday and the Whit bank holiday so I’d have smart shoes to go with my new dress.
Although my mother worked full time from the time I was three, I never lacked nurturing as my father supplied all the love and care I needed when mum was at work…
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