I`m in a sentimental kind of mood, have been all this month really, so I`m going to indulge myself and write about my Dad. Why? I suppose because I don`t want him to be forgotten. I don`t mean that I shall ever forget him, I`ll never do that, but because it`s so easy for people to kind of disappear once they`ve died, isn`t it.
One distinctive thing about Dad was that he always wore a suit, for Sundays, for work, for holidays, at home, absolutely all the time, he never wanted or had any casual clothes. And he`d always wear a trilby hat, when out whatever the weather, even on the hottest day. We used to say to him “you don`t want that on today”, but he`d not take any notice, he`d not even go out without his jacket on.
He came from a fishing family, but didn`t go to sea for his living because his father had told him there was no living to be had from it in the coming years, so he went into a gents outfitting shop, where he worked until he retired. He could have become manager, but that wasn`t for him. He wasn`t that type of person. When he became forced through circumstances to be in charge of the shop, he would only accept it as being an `acting manager`.
His spare time used to be spent looking after the garden, although as he used to say he didn`t really like gardening but did it because it was there! The back garden he used to grow vegetables for us although he never ate vegetables himself. I used to enjoy spending time out there with him, especially around Easter time when on Good Friday we always used to set potatoes, carrots, beetroot etc.,
I always loved doing things with him and seemed to share much in common with him. He was also good as scheming and making things from cardboard and made me lots of folders and different things, or else we`d work together on doing them. I also learnt to do dressmaking from him. (something I`ve not done since he died, I haven`t the heart to somehow) How I enjoyed my times with him.
I can remember childhood holidays at Lowestoft, on the beach (still in his suit!), he would help me make houses in the sand. (yes, houses, not castles!). and I can remember on Sunday afternoons when very young, sitting on his lap by the fire and he`d read to me, one of the favourite books being Heidi.
He always went to church on Sundays and was a Sidesman for many, many years. A lot of Sunday evenings we would sing hymns together with mother playing the piano. Some of them he`d sing with a strong Norfolk accent, and when I hear certain hymns today, I can still "hear" him singing them in that way. I think his faith meant a lot to him although he never talked about it.
He was quite a reserved, quiet person, with a sense of humour.
He was always there, and life seem safe and secure with him.