I lost my Dad last night. He’d been sick with leukaemia for some time but went very suddenly at home.
He took me to Goodison for the first time aged 4 1/2. Him and three of his mates in the Upper Bullens. I loved the whole experience apart from being gassed with cigar smoke all game. He took me to the Watford cup final, the Bayern Munich semi and the 87 Charity Shield. He told me tales of the great teams of the 60s. Basically, it’s all his bloody fault I still support a shit team. Fuck knows who I will call or text now to moan about Everton and occasionally laugh at Liverpool.
He was a genuinely lovely man and a brilliant grandad to my girls. I’m going to miss him dearly.
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