Dad was a camp site Nazi. It’s not something I hold against him, it’s a state of mind he developed to deal with children, adults and animals on camping grounds. I can’t remember when he became a Campsite Nazi, but it must have been around the time of the Welsh...

We never saw Dad much when we were really young. He worked in London, left in his Capri (“Bodie and Doyle have one like this”) and was at the end of the M11 well before we got up for school. He came home late, after dark when we were in bed, usually after a few pints...