I miss him to this day. He died on Sunday 23 July at about 3pm as his Parish Priest, the Revd Athol Thomson read the Nunc Dimitis; or so I am told. I was not there. I regret that still. I should have been a little stronger and I might have been.
He never saw me get my PhD, although he delighted in my academic achievements. He never saw me ordained. He never met any of his grandchildren, including my son. I was proud of him. I never said it enough.
He was an electrician, a television engineer for Trident, Telefusion. He loved his job. He worked hard. He was brilliantly creative, whether in the garden... and on paper writing plays and pantos... and just outside my study is a framed picture by him of the canal near Rotherham. It is not artistically brilliant, but he enjoyed being there, and I love it and remember and cherish it.
He was a Christian gentleman. He was a man of his time. He was not my friend, although he was. I miss him, he was and still is my Dad: mentor, role model, friend and teacher of the faith.
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