The Campsite Nazi

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 Holiday incident when he arranged… Continue reading The Campsite Nazi

My first kebab

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… Continue reading My first kebab