Yesterday would have been my dad's birthday. He was born on 15 October 1920 and died on 28 May 2007
He grew up in The Calton in Glasgow, the oldest of four sons and two daughters.Although from a humble working class background, from a very early age he had a passion for reading and would devour whatever literature he could lay his hands on.Over the years he read Dickens, Tolstoy, Steinbeck, Walter Scott, Conan Doyle to name but a few and encouraged his sons to do likewise
He left school at 7 (OK that's an exaggeration, I believe he was 14) and went to work in Templetons Carpet Factory at Glasgow Green, a fabulous building whose spectacular facade, inspired by The Doge's Palace in Venice, is still as impressive today as it must have been back then when my dad first walked through its doors
My dad remained in Carpet Manufacturing all his working life being a loom tuner for most of it. In his later years he was a factory manager but I think he still preferred to be 'hands on'
My two older brothers were born in the late 40s when he was still working in Glasgow, but he was never one to shirk a new challenge, so after spells in Kendal and Bonnyrigg (where I was born) he accepted an offer to go and work in South Africa. Our family set sail in 1955 and rumour has it that I actually learned to walk on the ship, which might explain my tendency to list from side to side on occasion
It is one of my great regrets that because I was so young when we lived in Isipingo Beach near Durban that I remember little of our time over there. We stayed there for five years and then my mum and dad decided to come home and he accepted a position at Gray's Carpet Factory in Ayr
We were there for ten years but even at the age of 50 my dad decided a new challenge was required and we moved down to County Durham where my dad became manager at Riding Hall Carpets in Willington. By this time my brothers had left home and I was the only one left at home. I have mentioned my times in England before so I will not bore you with them again, suffice to say that, although I was filled with dread at the thought of moving south, the years I spent down there were some of the best years of my life
By the time my dad finally left Willington in the early 80s I had already returned to Scotland, so after a journey lasting around 35 years my mum and dad eventually arrived back in their native Glasgow
I remember holidays with my mum and dad often involved long bouts of driving. I recall touring the Highlands with them in a caravanette, driving to France and beyond in a Mini and touring Ireland in 1966 during the World Cup. I recall my dad kissing The Blarney Stone and even at the age of 12 I remember thinking this was somewhat of a superfluous gesture from him. Blarney was not a commodity in which he was found lacking.
Even in his 70s and 80s he still had a way of charming the ladies which I have never possessed at any time during my life. This was somewhat disconcerting at times. We could be walking along the prom at Rothesay in mid conversation when he would come across a young lady and that was the end of our conversation. His attention was immediately elsewhere
In his later years he still loved travelling and accompanied my family on holidays to Cyprus, Lanzarote and Florida. I remember one day in Florida we were going to play mini-golf and we came across an armadillo just wandering along the side of the road. My dad loved this because he had never encountered one before. Even at that age achieving another 'first' was special to him
About 10 years ago he and I went back to Galway for the weekend as there was a direct flight from Glasgow. We walked along the front from Galway to Salthill and stopped at a bench for a rest. My dad was always one for a quick nap so lay down on the grass and was out in seconds. I finally gave up explaining to concerned passers-by that he was nothing more serious than asleep. Eventually he woke up with his familiar words "I must have dozed off"
He was a great lover of Rabbie Burns and in later years one of the highlights of his year was being asked along to an Annual Charity Burns Supper in Glasgow at which my oldest brother had a table. Part of his enjoyment was the recitals of the poems and songs of our Great Bard but I believe even more than that was bearing witness to the success of my brother which filled my dad with pride.
My dad liked a good whisky, something which he did not pass on to me, but yesterday I toasted him with a beer. Wherever he is, I hope they have a good library
A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's abon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that;
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that
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