TRUE-LIFE
Bobbing around excitedly in my orange life jacket, I grinned at my dad John, then 42 – I was 12, and he'd taken me out on his fishing boat.
The sea was choppy and there was a biting wind, but none of that mattered.
‘Best day ever!’ I beamed when our boat arrived back on the beach near our home.
Dad was my hero, and I'd always been his shadow.
Never happier than when I was beside him, begging him to let me tag along.
Even if he was off to the pub with his mates!
He relented on that score when I was 18.
‘Cheers, Dad,’ I smiled, clinking pint glasses.
As a self-employed
