Dad

I've been looking through a few of the things I've kept of Dad's.
His old slr, cutting-edge when he got it, shown here with a photo he took with it: me when I was my younger daughter's age, on a day out at Harrogate. My hair was waist-length then, and I was fashionably skinny in those days with John Lennon glasses. He loved cameras and technology and if he'd been around today he'd probably have one of the latest models of dslr, walking for miles and taking pictures of his beloved Yorkshire countryside. He had a dry sense of humour and would have made a great blipper.

I used this same camera for years, taking portraits of the kids, capturing numerous holidays, school events, and random things just as I do now. No post-processing then of course except in the darkroom, which I never quite got into despite doing a short course. Instead I used glass filters and spent ages experimenting with effects; unfortunately by the time the photos were developed I couldn't remember what I had done in each picture, especially as the "helpful" photo labs would adjust the colour to make my tinted shots look normal. What I did learn was to try to make every shot count, and still do that today even though it costs nothing to fill up a memory card over and over. Most days I only take a few shots; being basically lazy this saves me from going through a multitude on the computer.

Also here are the gold initialled cufflinks and signet ring Mum gave him on their wedding day; he gave her a gold watch. I don't remember him ever wearing them and they are still in the original box from a jeweller in Leeds. He loved gadgets but in every other way was very modest in his tastes, dressing conventionally and preferring practical to flashy cars and possessions.

Bottom right is the Imperial Service Medal he was given upon retiring from his job at 65. He was very proud of this, as not being involved in the fighting in WW2 he had never expected to get such a thing. He spent his working life making and testing army tanks, then supervising others doing the same, in a government munitions factory in Leeds. A big fan of the James Bond books and films, he was quite taken with the fact that he had been required to sign the Official Secrets Act, just as 007 had to do, and took the oath extremely seriously, not even telling us what they had been working on (Chieftans and Centurians, I eventually discovered). I'm glad he never had to fight in the War; it would be hard to find a gentler person, and I never once heard him raise his voice or swear. Conflict was intolerable to him, and if he heard angry voices he would quietly slip away.

Fit as a flea all his life and a non-smoker, he was not to know that his job would eventually kill him. As a young apprentice, he and his friends would have "snowball fights" with the packing material from the boxes of components. Dormant for over 40 years, the dust in his lungs from those asbestos snowballs would trigger the mesothelioma which was to kill him, thankfully over months not years.

As well as photography and nature, he loved animals and his two grandchildren, and came to stay often, unfortunately mostly to help out when one of them was ill and I couldn't take time off work. He never complained though, and would do anything to help anyone at any time. My son Leon takes after him, probably because he spent the first 6 years of his life in his frequent company. Dad never got to meet his two youngest grandchildren, although in some dimension I think he's still watching over us all.

My dad died on this day in 1986. I still miss him.