There’s a few things that happen around this time every year. About now, Christmas ads start appearing, and the industry sets about ripping each other to shreds for a couple of catty weeks. About now, the falling leaves plunge public transport into chaos. And about now, The Express usually predicts ‘coldest winter ever’ and a return to the days of the frozen over Thames.
And somewhere amid all this, quietly, on 04 Nov, my lovely dad’s friends and family mark another year without him. Without his laugh and his generosity and his readiness with the wine bottle when there’s an empty glass in sight. Continue reading