Sometimes, it’s the little things that matter. When I was young and we went into town shopping, we would look around and Dad was no longer with us. We would look back and he would be still at the door, holding it open for the other shoppers. I remember him giving his seat up when other people walked into the room. I recall him helping his neighbours do their fixing and mending. Nothing seemed to be too much trouble for him. Whatever he did, he always seemed to set a good example. How fortunate we all were. Lots of memories of a great father. Andrew.