Monday, 12 November 2018

Another Remembrance


Had my Dad been around he would’ve turned 104 yesterday. He died eleven years ago, not long after his ninety third birthday, and it became a little ritual that I’d ring him and inform him I’d held a respectful one minute’s silence at the appropriate time in honour of his special day.

English born and bred, he lived through the First World War as a baby and toddler, and worked in the Portsmouth Docks as a boilermaker during the Second World War, resulting in hearing loss as he and his colleagues went about the noisy business of maintenance and fitting out of ships. No such thing as Workplace Health and Safety back then.
His great love was gardening, which I’ve inherited to a certain degree, though my skills don’t match his. No matter what size our garden happened to be over the years as we moved around, flowers were in abundance, a dense patch of bright colour always on show. He would sell cut flowers when I was a little girl to passersby, pleased he was able to bring some cheer to someone else’s day, and as he got on in years and moved to a retirement village, he didn’t give it away and put his feet up.

If anything, gardening was what filled much of his day, for he simply enjoyed the satisfaction of nurturing a tiny seed to its full potential, then harvesting seeds from what he’d grown to continue the cycle as the seasons dictated.

My Dad was a somewhat solitary man, and not overt when it came to expressing his feelings. A product of his era, he would find other ways of showing his love for those who meant the most to him, such as hiding away in the shed for long periods before presenting us with delightful birthday gifts he’d made.

Ever the Englishman, he would never leave the house without being properly attired, ironed pants, shirt, tie, jacket, often a waistcoat, and hat, even just going to the corner shop to buy the newspaper. I adopted his love of waistcoats, I wear them over a loose shirt which he would probably think inappropriate as he always looked very dapper in his, and I kept one of his hats after he died, which I enjoy wearing now and again when the mood strikes.
 
Happy Birthday Dad.




Father’s smart grey suit
clean shirt, tie, waistcoat and hat
his suit of armour


1 comment:

  1. Lovely to hear about my Uncle Percy , he differed from my Dad as he wasn't in to gardening . I think all the years he worked abroad had a large influence on him .He loved his crosswords ,sometimes staying up to the small hours to complete them ,and listening to classical music .

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