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I suddenly have a desire to load pictures on my Facebook page,
some panicked and pathetic bid
to leave
a footprint of something,
somewhere.

So I go home and uproot my office to see what’s where
and I find a photo of my father,
sat in his chair,
reaching for the telly
remote.

It was taken in 1989 and the simmering civil war
between him and my mother
had not yet broken out,
even though signs of hostilities were ever
present.

I find another shot of him lining up for Goole Town FC in 1964,
fresh-faced and smiling,
possessing the kind of surety that only
small-town celebrity can
bestow.

Dead now some 14 years he had many sayings,
some were utter rubbish but some
conferred a wisdom. Of sorts.
‘You can’t educate pork’ was my particular
favourite

but ‘Life’s no rehearsal’ was the one he favoured most.
Dead now some 14 years and me not there yet,
I’m slowly getting
where he was coming from
with that.