Dad could sometimes appear to be a reluctant communicator, especially when it came to talking on the telephone.  However, in his letters, emails or other writings this couldn’t be further from the truth.  For any of you have received one of Dad’s missives you’ll know that he came alive in the written word.  
 
He was always writing something; his daily journals, various family histories, his life in music, poetry, extensive and detailed travel guides when asked for any tips on visiting areas of France, and even an entire book for Dilys whilst she was away on a work trip.   He once wrote to “With some people it’s aching joints, with others it’s kleptomania, with still others it acne but with me it’s writing – that’s my disease…something compulsive”.  
 
I’ve kept many of his letters from over the years and revisit them often. I loved that he always seemed able to expressive himself so freely in his writing - as he did in so many of his artistic endeavours.  He seemed to cast off some of the rigidity of his everyday self and reveal another more emotional side.  He could write all the things he found hard to say.  His writings are gloriously descriptive and lyrical - poetic almost.  His words are sometimes tinged with melancholy but, more often than not, filled with his wry and comedic observations about everyday life.  
 
This witty turn of phrase and carefully crafted wording was something he admired in some various musicians whose songs he much admired.  Like Ian Dury, Ivor Cutler, Stephen Sondheim and Jake Thackary to name a few. 
 
 So, with that in mind, I would like to play a song by Jake Thackary, which I feel sums this up completely. It’s not hard to picture dad singing and chucking along to this or any of Jake’s songs. I hope it will make you smile.