100 years

My Dad had his 100th birthday yesterday. Sadly he wasn't here to celebrate, as he died a year after my mum in 2001. He's on the left of this photograph in the company of two other colleagues. Why are they wearing top hats, you ask? Well they were part of a firm, long gone, called Mullens. They were stockbrokers to the Government and wore top hats distinguish themselves from common or garden brokers. This was when the Stock Exchange motto was My word is my bond - maybe honoured more in the breach than in the observance, but a principle my pater fiercely believed in. He was also rather garrulous, earning the soubriquet: Walkie Talkie in the days when there was a real marketplace for buying and selling shares.

We had a fractious relationship as much over politics as anything, and I vowed never to let such trifles come between me and my sons, but I miss him and his indefatigable bonhomie and joie de vivre terribly. So happy 100th Dad. Wish you were here.

ps: there's an extra puzzle - I only just noticed today in this photograph my father looks like he's carrying something with a Rembrandt self-portrait. A present for my mum, a visit an exhibition - who knows. This picture was taken from the Economist magazine, but I don't know the date.