A wonderful tribute to your dad Mark,very fitting
I’m currently watching my dad slowly fade away day by day. Heartbreaking tbh. If yours is still around and sharp of mind, cherish them and hold them close.
Tell him you love him. You may regret it one day if you don’t.My dad is in his early 70s and still healthy and I was thinking the other day he wont be here forever.
In my head he is still 38.
That is so true.Tell him you love him. You may regret it one day if you don’t.
This is the perfect place to remember and honour your Dad
Today marks 30 years since my dad died. A long time ago I realised that no-one was going to name a street after him, or raise a statue to him or put his name on a building. But in his own way he was a great man. Most of us are lucky enough to have had good fathers - but he was my dad, and I loved him.
What follows is a wee compilation of posts I made on Facebook over the years.
As the years march on I feel a wee need to mark his life - FF might not be the appropriate place to do it. But it’s the best I can do.
I’m currently watching my dad slowly fade away day by day. Heartbreaking tbh. If yours is still around and sharp of mind, cherish them and hold them close.
First time i have seen this thread Mark and it is a lovely tribute to your father. He was a fine man and he has set your values well sir.Every Christmas until the one just before he died he always made sure one of my presents was an orange and a penny in a sock - a wee reminder of what he used to get as a kid.
A fitting tribute for your father. My gran always hung up a sock for me every Xmas and there would be an orange, a penny (possibly it was a farthing!) and a small gift, such as a mouth organ or something similar. I’m quite sure my dad and my grandpa would have been at work on Xmas day, at least till 1 o’clock in the 1950’s.Every Christmas until the one just before he died he always made sure one of my presents was an orange and a penny in a sock - a wee reminder of what he used to get as a kid.
Traditions are to be held on to.Every Christmas until the one just before he died he always made sure one of my presents was an orange and a penny in a sock - a wee reminder of what he used to get as a kid.
He wasn’t an Orangeman.Remember reading this post in Feb.
Very nice tribute Mark.
I'm also the son of an Orangeman.
The inevitability of losing your parents dosen't make it any easier when that awful day arrives.
You're from good stock big man.....have a nice one and the same to you all brothers and sisters.
Wonder if they mentioned my dad’s role in this tale.My dad, Daniel Dingwall, served in the war as a Royal Engineer.
It won’t be that long now until we have no-one left who experienced the Second War World much like the passing of those who could tell us first hand about the Great War.
Growing up it seemed every adult had been in the war. Everyone had tales to tell either of the home front or exotic theatres of battle overseas.
My cousins and I made a few shillings acting as waiters at family or house parties - in those days almost all men drank whisky, Piper or McEwan’s Export in those cans you had to burst open with the pointy edge can opener. The men were usually in the living room while the women were in the sitting room with sherry, Advocaat or Babycham.
The talk was always of shipyards - virtually everyone had worked in the yards, even the women, Auntie Jennie as a forklift driver and Aunty Joey in the canteen - and the war.
One of my dad’s pals was nicknamed “Sass” as he claimed to have been an original member of the Long Range Desert Group, the forerunner of the SAS Regiment. As the nights grew longer the tales got taller!
My dad’s favourite yarn was told about field glasses he had won in a game of dominoes with Field Marshall Rommel while he was a Desert Rat.
My dad was in the 8th Army Royal Engineers but said he went along with a commando raid on Rommel’s HQ and saved his captured comrades from execution by beating the Field Marshall in an all-or-nothing game of dominoes in which Rommel was caught trying to cheat and thereby got his nickname of the Desert Fox!
Quite why a sapper who was trained to clear mines and then spent the rest of the war maintaining cranes in Port Tufic was selected to take part in an assassination attempt was never full explained. Work accident and ringworm scars were shrapnel wounds!
Being a domino game away from execution didn’t really explain why dad or his 8th army pals seemed to hold Rommel in such high esteem as a decent man and a worthy foe. In fact, they idolised him and the Africa Korps as much as they idolised Monty.
It was explained that the graticules - markings on the lenses - on the binoculars worked so that you
work out the range of tanks - and so they do.
I was delighted to be able to take the binoculars out to Israel a few years ago and use them in Haifa, the Golan, Jerusalem, beside the River Jordan, the Judean Hills, the Dead Sea and on top of the great fortress of Masada. The old man would have loved to have seen the Holy Land and I thought of him as I used them.
On top of Masada the thought suddenly struck me as I adjusted the eye-pieces. Why would Field Marshall Rommel have been using a pair of British binoculars made in 1944 - the year after he left Africa?!
The old man - as usual - had the last laugh. One more time.
Miserable bastard.Every Christmas until the one just before he died he always made sure one of my presents was an orange and a penny in a sock - a wee reminder of what he used to get as a kid.