Dance with my father

As I headed down to North Berwick today, Sunday, I was listening to Richard Holloway on the radio. The guest he was interviewing - the sports athletics coach Franck Dick - concluded his conversation with a piece of music - (last) dance with my father by Luther Vandross. I think it's the first time I've really listened to the lyrics and it evoked strong memories of my father who passed away suddenly some 24 years ago, 6 months after our daughter was born and 3 days before Christmas.

He was aged 68, which is an age I seem to be approaching at speed. He was an (old school) banker. Never allowed (by the bank) to have an overdraft and nothing bought until you knew you could afford it. A lovely man, and dad.

He worked originally for the British Linen Bank - when it was a bank - and then the Bank of Scotland.

One of the things I "inherited" was this corporate brolly. It has been a workhorse over the years but today, when opening it up against the heavy showers, the clasp broke and the metal ribs bent. No amount of coaxing could rescue it so with some deep reluctance it was consigned to the Bin.

Another link with the past gone.