My Dad and I

I really love my Dad, despite everything that has happened and everything that has been done to me. I do not think that I will ever know the whole truth but I know enough to be able to say that a great deal of harm has been done to me, emotionally, physically and financially.

My Dad and I are different in a lot of ways. He has a very controlling personality, whilst I have more of a caring one. He has done things that were not right but I have a strong moral compass so that if I do something that is wrong, it eats me up so much inside that I have to tell the truth and try to put it right.

But, we are very similar in a lot of ways too. Neither of us will back down and we are both very stubborn. When wrong is being done to me, howsoever caused, I just cannot stand by and let it happen; I have to fight for what I believe in.

I still remember many years ago, when I had gone to London to get the first edition of the paper in which my Chartered Accountancy finals were to be published, when I turned to the page that had my name on, I went back to the newspaper seller and bought some more copies and then found a phone box to call my Mum and Dad; they were ecstatic. When I finally arrived home, there was Mum and Dad waiting for me with a bottle of champagne and I saw that look of sheer pride on my Dad’s face that I had moved onto the second tier of a career that he had followed.

I still have those papers and I still remember that day, as though it was yesterday, with great pride and affection.

When Premium Credit was to be hived off from its parent company, Dad suggested my name to the Chairman and then recused himself from the remainder of the process for obvious reasons. I can still remember that on the day of the interview, I was caught in traffic but when I arrived, there was Dad pacing the pavement like an expectant father, waiting for me and then promptly bollocking me for being late.

Yes, although I got the job on my own merits, it was Dad who enabled me to put a foot in the door. But getting that job, with Dad in the background, had a lot of quite severe unintended consequences for me.

When Martin and I came along, he and Mum sacrificed so much for us and I have done the same for my Verity. If it had not been for his and Mum’s generosity after my first divorce, I would probably have been living with my parents for much longer than 6 months.

Long before the second divorce, I would have been financially ruined if Dad had not come to my aid when the roof of my and my wife’s new house was about to collapse. But the calamity of having to effectively rebuild our new house, put a severe strain on the marriage, a strain that was partly responsible for the culminating second divorce.

Howsoever created, the trust, set up with my father’s money, did enable me to extricate myself from my second marriage and find a new home on the island.

But then, not long after I had moved in, 5 months in fact, it all went very very badly wrong and the relationship with my Dad utterly collapsed; it had been on the rocks for a year or two anyway.

It is a very sad thing to say that I do not believe that I will ever see my Dad again and that breaks my heart. With no possible reconciliation in sight with either my Dad or Verity, I am, in all intense and purposes, completely alone.

My Dad is my rock, on which I  built my all too short career.

My Verity is my fortress

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