Don't Eat With Your Mouth Full

Where can we live but days?

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"Why Do they Dig So Deep? It's Only Beneath the Surface - Why Do they Dig So Deep?"
Today is the tenth anniversary of my last meeting with my father, who died in the small hours of 5th December, 2004. That was obviously pretty significant for him, but it also started a chain of events that was to change my own life very fundamentally, and more than once. I think the best tribute I can pay (not being much of a hand at speechifying) is to link to two existing entries, which give small flavour of him.

Here is the story of his ill-fated solo cycling tour of Europe in the summer of 1939.

And here is his one published foray into fiction (to the best of my knowledge), a story written after the War and looking back at one hot and steamy corner of it.

Finally, here is a two part interview he did, I'd guess in the early '90s. I believe it was for a collection of interviews his interlocutor was making on the subject of inspiration, and he begins by talking about that subject, but covers a lot of ground by the end, from pottery, to Quaker meetings, to healing, to the way he became a schoolteacher. This is characteristic of the way he talked in later life, before he declined into dementia, and I'm very glad to have it.

Today is the tenth anniversary of my last meeting with my father, who died in the small hours of 5th December, 2004.

His memory for a blessing.

He was a good storyteller.

Thank you - he was.

What a lovely man! I hope all this becomes a book.

His memory for a blessing.

Nine

Thank you. I'm sure my family posts are long enough for a book already, but editing it will be another matter!

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