//My father in uniform on his wedding day, March 2, 1940, north London//
“Bad thing for a young man to lose his father” Charles Cheeryble, Nicholas Nickleby
My father died 35 years ago today.
I was 20 at the time, and witnessed him take his final breath. The narrow world of music and clothes I inhabited was preoccupied with Ian Curtis’s recent suicide; given the fact that my father had been diagnosed with cancer four years previously and spent the last 18 months on earth hospitalised and fighting like a bastard for his life, I couldn’t see what the fuss was about. PiL’s Death Disco was much more my speed.
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