My father died on December 19th. 2014 aged 84 years. I spoke at his funeral and related the following short reminiscences of a man I'd known and loved all of my life.

Memories of my Dad from early childhood.

Thumbs.

Probably my earliest memory is of my dad entertaining me with 'puppets'. Faces drawn on his thumbs with a pen. He would make up little stories to draw me in.

Home on the Range.

My dad was a cowboy. He had a horse, used a lasso & carried a gun. At least this is what he told me as he made up stories for me as I lay in bed & he came to tuck me in. His stories involved bad guys & herding cattle. I believed every word as he drew me in again this time to his rich imaginary world probably made up from years of watching cowboy films at 'the pictures'. Why would I doubt him? He was my dad. He was a hero.

Dog

I had a dog once. For about an hour. We were living with my Nan in the front room of her house in Florence Road West Bromwich. Dad went out a bought a dog from a pet shop. It was a very lively Red Setter. He brought it home & it bounded around the house wagging its tail & nearly knocking me over (it was bigger than me). My Nan was not amused. She gave her ultimatum, " either that dog goes or you do!". Dad had to take the dog back to the pet shop & ask for a refund. I think he got one.

Pirates in the Park

Dad, my friend Martin & his dad went to Dartmouth Park to play pirates on the rowing boats. We rowed around the pool a number of time firing imaginary canon & shouting at each other in pirate voices from our separate boats. Then dad thought he'd teach me to row. I sat down, took the oars & dug in deep. The water resistance to my rowing pulled me from the seat & I ended up sitting on the floor of the boat. When he'd finished laughing he showed me how to do it. Skimming the oars over the surface of the water he propelled us at speed. I had another go following his instruction & though I wasn't expert I had learned how to move the boat. We then took an oar each & rowed together.

Smashing Time

I remember breaking a neighbour's window by accident when playing a game. I ran off & hid. Dad found me, lectured me on my responsibility & insisted I go to see the neighbour to apologise & offer to replace the broken glass. I refused & went back into hiding in the shed. I think I was embarrassed & fearful because I thought I might get shouted at by the neighbour & hadn't a clue how to replace the glass myself. Eventually after sitting alone for a couple of hours I gave in & went around to apologise to our neighbour who obviously wasn't happy but accepted my apology. Next dad took me to get a new piece of glass then supervised me doing the repair, teaching me how to take out the remains of the old glass & use putty to fix in the new pane.

Dancing in the Dark

When I was small mom & dad used to go ballroom dancing. We used to go to the Gala Baths in West Bromwich where they boarded over the pool as a dance floor. I can remember sitting on a canvas chair drinking pop & watching them dance to a proper big band. On one occasion I can remember being carried home by dad half asleep wrapped in his jacket during a torrential rain storm.

Flower Pot

When I grew up I used to love going to the Flower Pot pub on Spon Lane at Sunday lunchtime for a pint & a chat with dad. Mostly it was stories about his work & the various characters he encountered. He loved his job & I think he was very conscientious. He also loved meeting people & talking to them regardless of their station in life.

My memories of my childhood involving dad are good because he was a good dad. He did his best as a father & nobody could ask for more.

When he became ill later in his life I never heard him complain about his lot. He got on with things because that's what he always did.