More Bingo :o)

A follow up to my last post.

Sometimes, after calling Bingo, I’d go to the bar at the Holiday Camp (where I lived btw) and find my Policeperson Dad there.

Sheesh. Did it piss me off?

OH YES!

Dad being Dad would say…What are you drinking?

Me: Lager. Half a pint.

I’d find a dram. THAT look he always gave me. Then his smile. And his nod.

He was not good with verbal communication and me.

BUT – He was looking after me in the only way he knew how :o)

I was the only one of his three children who said goodbye to his body. Both my brothers refused to view him.

THIS IS ME, Dad :o)

Thank you.