My father-in-law

It was a year ago yesterday that J's dad died. Obviously the perspective on things is different for me than for her, but even from my point of view it seems like a long, long time since I saw Sandy and yet only yesterday that he died.

Sandy was lovely man, one of those type of men in my parents' generation who could be fairly described as real family men - men who worked every day of their lives, were never ill, never unemployed (God forbid) and who gave all of their wages to their wives to bring up their children. Quiet amongst strangers, with a fondness for a decent pint and a bet on the horses, I used to know dozens of men just like Sandy - men who seemed big when I was a child and who proved to be no smaller when I grew physically to be the same size as them.

The last time I spent any extended time with Sandy, we went through to Hampden to see Hibs (his team, though certainly not mine) play in a cup final - which they unexpectedly lost. With the Hibs' team having just played very poorly, Sandy spent the entire trip back extolling the virtues of Hibs' players from forty years ago, we had a few pints at a working men's club in Lanarkshire and by the time we arrived back in Edinburgh he had recovered his good humour and was philosophical about things. It was a very good day and I do wish we could have done it again.