Am annoyed with myself for neglecting to mention anything about my Dad yesterday on the anniversary of his death. I'd been thinking about him before going to work but after that the deluge of Monday stuff swamped me to be followed by the excitement-cum-bewilderment of a super-sized telly and catching up with Hakim & Fifi & life outside our four walls.
Still busy today but found the time to think about Jack Connor and what he would have regarded as tough work and a tough life. Always a healthy perspective because my life and work is a cakewalk compared to what was expected of Dad & his generation in our little corner of Manchester & environs around the middle of the last century.
Slumped in his chair in our small living room, in front of the fire. After a ten hour shift on the dirty roller at Rotunda. Close to breathless. Nothing left - dozing before our tea. Finally at ease in a life in which nothing came easily.
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