Categories
THE SOUTHAMPTON HUNDREDS

18

I don’t write dad any more letters. I just take my washing home, drink tea, chat about not much and don’t tell him anything about what I get up to in Southampton. When I am home A. comes to sleep over, and dad, as ever, is fine with that and leaves cups of tea outside my bedroom door, announced with a subtle cough. Years later he tells he didn’t approve at all really, but didn’t want to spoil it for me as he was just happy that I had found someone, (like he found mum, he didn’t need to say).

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s