A Make-Over Mistake

There’s a photo of my father, I think it’s Monte Carlo, I’d say 1930s.  A young man fired up and dashing, in spatted shoes and cravat.  In the Seventies and his sixties, when he was retired, I thought it would be a good idea if he could be a little more trendy.  Just because he was getting old, didn’t mean he had to look like he lost it.  So, he and I went to Bristol City centre and bought tank tops, and purple flared trousers.  Also, at my behest, he grew his sideburns.  When the changes were complete, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to offend him, but I thought we made an error.  And perhaps because he didn’t want to offend me either, only very gradually did he ease back into the man that he once was.