Dad

I’m raking over some old documents and stuff – mostly as Mrs F rightly pointed out after the sad death of our friend that if we both went together we need to put all our stuff in one place so that the kids can easily sort it out.  Morbid I know but still something of practical application which we hope will not be needed for years, however the recent events around us show that sometimes the thing you expect or hope to be years in the future isn’t.

Anyway that has led me to raking over stuff of my parents as I rifle through my haphazard filing system.

I found a couple of photos. 

The first, taken on Margate seafront, shows my Dad (he is the little one in the pram) with my Auntie Peggy swinging her bucket – the loveliest lady that ever lived, my gorgeous Nan who managed to see me married and Pop, my grandfather, who was a well known political firebrand in the trade union movement of the 20s and 30s.  He sadly passed away young in his 40s so he didn’t see my Dad get married same as my Dad sadly never saw me get married.  Pop died from complications from TB due to him having weak lungs as he’d been gassed at The Somme in WWI and that left his lungs weak.

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The second was taken in the last year of my Dad’s life.  One of his proudest moments.  He is the gent seated on the far right in front row of this likely bunch.  They had just been awarded with their Imperial Service Medals.  My Dad completed 42 years of service in the Royal Dockyard before some moron of a politician decided that it was no long cost effective to keep 400 plus years of tradition going and closed the bloody place.  Sadly not long after this photo Dad went into hospital to have his hip replaced – the result of many years of hard physical labour at the yard (he was a leading shipwright) and whilst the op was a success and he was happily looking forward to years of retirement pottering in the garden and doing up the house he died a couple of days later from a massive heart attack.  He was only 59.  I’ve spent the majority of my life missing him and wishing he’d been about to see his grandchildren be the first ever in our family to make it to university.  He’d have been so proud.

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About furtheron

Music and guitar obsessive who is a recovering alcoholic to boot
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6 Responses to Dad

  1. sherryd32148 says:

    These are wonderful. I love going through old photos and thinking about what it must have been like for them when life was new and full of promise.

    Great post.

  2. C says:

    A lovely post, Furtheron, so reflective and tender. Thanks for sharing.

  3. Not morbid at all! You’re being pragmatic. I keep all of our financial accounts numbers and passwords neatly stowed away for just such an emergency.

    The photos are so great. Do you realize that in a generation or two, there won’t be any more paper photos to stumble across? They’ll all be bits and bytes. Not the same, in my mind. It lacks romance.

  4. Thank you for sharing those photographs. I feel like I got a special glimpse into your past.

    • furtheron says:

      To be honest this is before my past – obviously I never knew Pop as he died before Dad was even married to Mum. However he was a character I believe… something I might expand on in later posts

  5. daisyfae says:

    Wonderful photos and reflections. Since i acquired the more risky hobbies (SCUBA, motorcycling) i created what i call the “doomsday folder” – all necessary documents (will, living will, list of bank accounts, life insurance, etc.). The folder is in a location where my children (or Studley) can find it should there ever be a need. It’s my intention (failed last year) to update it every January as i sit and shred documents in my office…. Very practical. Not morbid at all.

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