Marion continues with her stories about her family - this week she writes about her much loved dad

My dad was a lovely man who came from a very unusual background.

He was born in Hope Square in Clifton in 1901 and he came from a very large family.

His dad had been married twice and my dad was a result of the second marriage.

The age difference between the eldest and the youngest was so great that by the time he was born the eldest siblings had left home.

Dad was allowed to leave school early to help support the family and worked in the market before lying about his age, as so many youngsters did then, and joining up to serve in World War I.

He was in the Labour Corps where, although he never served in the front line, he did have the arduous job of burying the dead – both men and horses.

He was also served, after volunteering, in World War II from 1942 onwards in the Parachute Corps.

Dad had a happy jolly sense of humour and spoke, at times, in what could seem an odd language.

We went up the “apples and pears” (stairs) to Bedfordshire and when we were going out “proper” he would put on his “whistle and flute” (suit)

In his eyes I never grew up.

If he came to the City ground with me and my husband he would ask if I wanted some lollies for the match.

My young husband used to think it was funny.

If I popped up home on my own (the place where we are brought up is always home) dad would always ask if I had a bob (one shilling, or twelve pence) in my pocket.

He was the most generous of men who took the greatest pleasure in making others happy.

Dad’s upbringing had been very poor and I think that is why he appreciated the home life mum provided with three square meals a day.

He loved his family.

Dad also taught me one of life’s greatest lessons.

When I was about thirteen I begged for a new bike.

Mum and dad said they couldn’t possibly afford it but dad said he would look out for a second hand one in the adverts in the Evening Post.

It wasn’t long before he found one – it cost thirty bob (£I.50) – and off we went on the bus to Redcatch Road in Knowle.

When we got off at the Friendship pub dad said that with a bit of luck he could knock the man down to twenty five bob.

Dad knocked at the door and after the man had confirmed the bike was still for sale he called for his daughter to bring it round to the front.

Now I was a scholarship girl at a grammar school and as a lot of the girls there had parents who were paying for their education they were quite well off compared to mine.

So can you imagine my horror when a girl in my class brought the bike round.

I dreaded her telling every one at school I had her second hand bike.

I think dad must have realised I felt out of place because thankfully he didn’t try to knock the price down.

I cycled home while he got the bus.

By now I had lost all pleasure in my bike

I didn’t even like it – it was a stupid old upright one.

When dad got home he said, “ shall we give it a bit of a clean, Marie”?

When we were on our own in the garden he said to me, “ Marie, always be proud of who you are and where you have come from.

“Your true friends will never worry about your background as long as you never set out to deliberately hurt any one in life.

“Always hold your head up.”

That is so very true. No one brought up as I was would never want to hurt anyone.

And, by the way, no-one at school ever mentioned the bike and I spent many happy hours riding it.

In 1942, when my little brother Royston was born, I was ten but so naïve I didn’t even know that mum was expecting a baby.

He is the very image of my dad in his ways, looks and sense of humour .

He has been such a support to us and mum that I think he deserves a column to himself one day.

Take care.

Bye for now, Marion.