In Remembrance
Earlier this year my Dad passed away and as I get older I realise how the seemingly insignificant things can evoke a memory and make me smile. One such occasion was the other day when I was at work, and walked past the toolbox of a workman who was doing some maintenance. There, amongst all the tools was a battered Golden Virginia tobacco tin – Dad used to keep various drill-bits in the same sort of tin and all marked up for the type of drill that it contained. It made me smile and for a moment I remembered all those times when I had to help him and be sent to get some tool or other. Usually, I had no idea of what he was talking about or where it was apart from ‘On the left of the vice in the shed!’ This narrowed it down to several square feet and if I hadn’t found it within three minutes he’d come tell me off, pick it up and walk out, with me grudgingly trailing behind him. The thing is that never once did he sit down and explain what exactly all these tools etc did. I was expected t...