i-want-more

In memorium

It's easy to get caught up in the gloom of the anniversary of a death, so I'm going to say some things here that hopefully won't be too depressing.

Kenneth Arthur, 1929 - 1990

My Dad was a fun-loving sort of chap. Early photographs show a boy that was perpetually untidy (the collar of his jumper always seemed to be fraying, his hair always unkempt).

I gather he met my mother at a youth club in Sutton. They moved the family to Devon in the early 1960s. My Dad loved the countryside from the get-go (unlike my mother) and wasted no time getting himself onto various cricket and football teams. He would also pretty much go angling in a puddle, if there was nothing better on offer to fish in.

I suspect he felt rather outnumbered, with a wife, five daughters and an ever-dwindling pool of sons-in-law.

His latter years were dogged with poor health. The advice to give up smoking went largely unheeded, but we couldn't find it in us to get too angry with him about still sneaking a crafty roll-up in the shed. Eventually, it contributed to his death.

I could go on about him for ever, but I wanted to make the point that this man wasn't the perfect father, or the perfect husband. He was useless with money. He was terrible at confrontation. He was an awful flirt.

Here's to you, wherever you are - and as a life-long agnostic, I sincerely hope you didn't make it to heaven.

posted by deafdisco @ 12:55 pm