I don't recall seeing my father much whilst I was growing up. He'd leave the house an hour before we got up, and return home 12 hours later, just as we were being put to bed (6.00pm, every night until I was 12, whether it was summer or winter, whether we were sleepy or not), and at weekends he would be in the shed or at the allotment garden. The only time he spent in the house was mealtimes or after 6.00pm on Saturdays, and Sunday afternoon in front of the TV watching 'The Big Match' through closed eyes. Woe betide us if we tried to turn the station over even if he was snoring. He had a sort of 6th sense that knew when we were near the TV and he would wake up bellowing at us not to touch it.

I spent more time with him after I was 9, but then he was a different man. My brother was killed, my mother became disabled after a fall down the stairs and he had to do the heavier work. Saturday morning was always shopping, Saturday afternoon was the allotment. Sunday mornings I'd be in church whilst he cooked and Sunday afternoon was 'going out for a drive' - we hardly ever went anywhere with a purpose - just 'out for a drive'.

I thank every deity you care to mention that I'm not turning into the man he became!

I also thank a few deities that Manitas isn't like him either... he spends a lot of time with Bratling - which is good because I have the maternal instinct of a cuckoo!

LTS