The Day Tripper

by James Goodhand

There follows a eulogy that only Dad could have provided. Her life, it appears, began only when she met him. Her defining moments being the things she liked to bake, her enjoyment of fish and chips in Wetherspoons, the hotel in Tenerife she always insisted they return to, the pride she took in her home. No mention of that young woman photographed on the mantelpiece. The person who left school at fifteen and worked two jobs till she’d saved enough to be free; who flew to Spain and worked bars and sang with a band; the girl who then spent three years on cruise ships, chambermaiding till she worked her way into the cabaret; who returned home and put herself through college. Who then met my father—an event which trumped all that had come before. Still, she was a Good Woman. On that, all agree.