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I was very young when my dad died, so I do not remember him that well.

I remember his green jacket.
His Post Office uniform.
His sleeping in his armchair, and snoring.
The brown overcoat he wore at the Sorting Office.
The Post Office parties and theatre trips.
I remember he tried to get me into the Red Cross even though I was too young, because I was keen.
I remember I liked to help him eat his evening meal which tasted good reheated and covered in pepper.
I remember I didn't like his rough face (shavers weren't so good in those days)
I remember him singing to me: "Lelley, Lelley, My Naughty Little Lelley ....."
That marmalade was called Nell Gwyn, and that other people didn't know what I meant when I asked for some 'Nell Gwyn'.
That he had a red seat on the back of his bike for me to ride on.
He liked his roses.
His skin was darker than mine.
I think he liked Dad's Army
He liked his gramaphone.

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