Complete Surrender--The True Story of a Family's Dark Secret and the Brothers it Tore Apart at Birth by Dave Sharp

Author:Dave Sharp [Dave Sharp and John Parker]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781782192336
Publisher: John Blake Publishing
Published: 2012-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

13

‘Would you be prepared to write a letter, doctor?’ I asked. ‘Certainly, if you think it will help.’ My dad’s GP and I were discussing my dad. Dad had never quite got over the loss of my mum. I doubt if the idea of remarrying ever even crossed his mind. He had carried on with life placidly enough, but on his own it was never going to be the same, that was accepted and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He remained at Cope and Cope as a sheet-metal worker till his retirement, having put in thirty years at the firm. This was the way it was then; people didn’t chop and change employers and expected to have a job for life. This had all been fine for Dad and the familiarity and continuity had kept him going. The workplace was like another family. The problem was that since packing up work he was still living on his own at Spring Terrace. Again it was somewhere he’d known all his life and to uproot people from their surroundings at an advanced age is not always kind or wise, and with the memories of Mum in every nook and cranny of the place, who was I to tell him to leave? However, the old cottage was still as damp as it had been in my boyhood, and with Dad no longer in the prime of life his living conditions were now taking their toll. Rheumatism had already set in, and going out to the outside toilet in all weathers, not to mention lugging in coal for the fire, were now arduous tasks and risked further health problems. Julie and I saw him often enough and did what we could, but obviously we couldn’t be there all the time. Dad needed a new home, with adequate heating and proper sanitation. The doctor’s letter was to support our application to the council. We had also written to our local MP. If Bob Geldof could raise millions for worthy causes in Africa with Band Aid I didn’t see why we couldn’t succeed in a small campaign of our own here at home. After all, Dad had paid tax and National Insurance all his working life, and with all the new ‘wealth creation’ that Mrs Thatcher was now talking about it didn’t seem unreasonable to ask that an honest, law-abiding citizen should have a decent roof over his head in his retirement. ‘Thanks doctor,’ I said, as he signed and gave me the letter detailing Dad’s state of health and a recommendation for rehousing. ‘Good luck,’ he said, ‘I hope it works out.’

It did. A few months later, courtesy of South Oxfordshire District Council my dad was installed in a brand new flat in a sheltered housing scheme in Woodcote. He’d been sad to leave Spring Terrace, that went without saying, but he adapted remarkably well to his new situation and quickly made friends in the local pub, the Red Lion, where he was soon regularly enjoying a pint or three of best bitter.

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