How Son of My Father Found Its Name - The Story Behind a Book Title, and a Half-Forgotten Song

In 2022, I wrote a book called Son of My Father.

I remember the moment the title came to me. I was pacing around my home, thinking — searching for a phrase that might hold the whole story together. Titles can be elusive things, they are jotted down, forgotten, some look great, then they don’t. I had a handful of ideas, each discarded for one reason or another. 

None seemed to bring the chapters together in the way I wanted.

At one stage, I had an idea that I felt could really work — to open each chapter with a subheading drawn from a song of the time. A piece of music that had shaped not only my personal experiences, but also the atmosphere of the era I was writing about. I imagined each song acting as a lyrical thread connecting memory, mood, and meaning to the story.

Then reality intervened. Copyright.

Yes, “fair use” might have allowed me to borrow a few lines, but even that felt like a legal grey area. The deeper I looked, the more it became a potential minefield of permissions and costs. Reluctantly, I let the idea go.

Still, once music had entered the conversation, I couldn’t get it out of my head. Songs have a way of unlocking memory, and as I sifted through those from my past, one stood out: Son of My Father, a 1972 hit by Chicory Tip.

I can’t say the band were favourites of mine, nor that the song had any special place in my life at the time. I remember it being played on the radio and Top of the Pops, but I was more into music by T Rex, Slade, Sweet and ELO. Years later, the song — and something in its story — resonated. It felt as though it was an ideal title for the book.

Here’s the song:

I later discovered that the title had been used before — in books, in other contexts — but that didn’t matter. For me, it fit.

Because although my book isn’t solely about my relationship with my dad, he is the presence that runs through it. The man, the mystery. As he left my life almost fifty years ago now, the book is most of what I know about him.

Writing Son of My Father was, in part, an act of discovery — not just about the past, but about what remains when memory fades and imagination takes its place. 

Read more reflections like this here.

 

Image by Tibor Janosi Mozes from Pixabay

Son of My Father - The Funeral Service (an extract)

An extract from my memoir, Son of My Father.      

A very different time.

My Brother wrote the service for mam's funeral. He wrote the following.

“... when she was a young lady, it was the simple things like, helping her mam in the house, learning how to cook, wash and most importantly sew. Equally another happy time for her was her schooling, she was clever and bright and always managed to be in the top stream. It has been said that in other times she may have gone on to be a teacher.”

 It continues.

“From school she went into the factories (Freeman, Hardy and Willis) and later after becoming a mum turned to homeworking. The house always had Sewing Machines in it, Overlocks, Scissors, piles of leather, trim and fabric and things in the process of being put together. She was naturally creative and could turn any idea plucked from your imagination into a fully realised costume in hours.

She was soon promoted to sample machinist because basically she was the best in the trade.”

 

Her schooling was probably typical of that time for someone from her social background. Until her funeral, I was not aware of what she had achieved at school. She would have left school at around fifteen back then.

Five More Signs of an English Baby Boomer - Things Can Only Get Better

 

1)  A cost of living crisis would happen every few years. 

Money was tight, inflation was often high, and austerity was the norm for many. People were told, “You have never had it so good.” Depends on how you define ‘good’. If it’s a little better than bad, then I suppose it was good.

2)  You watched television showing a man landing on the moon. 

I do remember seeing someone walking on the moon. Years later, pop group The Police sang about walking on the moon. And conspiracy theorists told us that the moon landing was recorded in a studio on earth. 

Next they will be saying that the Clangers aren’t real.

Five Signs of an English Baby Boomer - Nostalgia is not what it used to be.

 

1) We would often have sugar sandwiches for tea, usually because we had run out of jam — or money to buy jam. White bread, margarine, and sugar. 

It kept the dentist in business.

2) You had an aunt who would cut your hair. 

My aunt Carol cut my hair. 

“What style? Who do you want to look like?” She would ask. ‘David Bowie or David Essex?’ was my reply. They seemed to do well attracting girls; perhaps it would work for me? It didn’t. Well, I don’t think it did.

My First Television. The Big Box in the Corner

The big box in the corner.

That’s what our first televsion was called.

It's the early 1960s, and I have a memory of a rather big box that stood in the corner of our rented home.

It had a very small screen.

In fact, the screen was so small that at times a pair of binoculars would have been useful. The room was small, but it seemed to be so far away.

But there was an answer to that - we just moved the sofa and chairs closer to the television.

It was mostly a box, but it had to be.

One day the television stopped working. When that happened, the main way of getting it to work again seemed to be to hit the top of the box. Dad tried that, but it did nothing to solve the issue. The picture remained blank.

He then called in the local repairman, who in due course arrived with his handyman bag of tools.

His first job was to take the back off the big box with a screwdriver. It only took a few minutes for him to decide that one of the valves needed to be replaced. While he was doing that, I had a quick look at what was in the back. Considering the actual screen was so small, I was surprised to see all the valves, transistors and a massive tube.

It surprised me that putting all that stuff together only produced such a small picture.

Looking into the back did show me one thing, though. I had been told by my granddad that all the people who appeared on television actually lived in the back of the television set. Of course, being very young and not knowing anything about how that was possible, I just accepted his expertise on the matter. It never occurred to me that while the box may have been big, it wasn’t that big. They must have been very small people.

The handyman, having changed the valve, then turned the television on. There then followed a wait of several minutes for the set to “warm up” and a picture to appear.

It was like magic.

Money, Money, Money - I'm in the Money. When Money Changes.

  

 

   Money was different when I was a boy.

It really was different. 

It actually changed when decimalisation was introduced in the UK on 15 February 1971. The old currency system of pounds, shillings, and pence was replaced by a decimal system where the pound was divided into 100 new pence.

New coins were introduced from that date, although some had been in circulation two to three years prior.

Here is a list of the old money, coins and notes that were in issue when I was a lad. 

Ha’penny: A coin that was worth 1/2 of a penny. 

There were times when I had a lot of these, often saved in a jam jar.

Penny: A coin that was worth 1 penny. It was also called a copper. 

There was a time when I would regularly take beer bottles back to the local off-licence shop and be given a penny for each. The bottle returns were a valuable source of income for a young lad back then. Mind you, I think it is possible that quite a few adults were wondering why I was encouraging them to drink more. 

Also, the name of Miss Moneypenny in the Bond films.

Thrupence: A coin that was worth 3 pence. 

Known as a joey, but I don’t remember ever calling it that. A twelve-sided coin with character. Having some of these was a step up from the humble penny.

Tanner: A coin that was worth 6 pence. 

The coin was small, silver, and shiny. From what I can remember, it was very easy to lose, especially if you had a hole in your pocket. I suppose that the modern-day equivalent would be the five-pence coin.

It was sometimes referred to as an “Elsie”, after a character named Elsie Tanner in the popular television soap, Coronation Street. Well, that’s what it was called in our house.

A Journey Back in Time to a Summer Job That Helped Fund My Holiday.

When I was a young boy, my mother set me a challenge. It was during the long school holiday one year, and she was hoping to keep me busy and out of her way.

The challenge was that if I did a certain amount of housework and errands over the following seven days, I would be rewarded with ten shillings.

Ten shillings was a lot of money back then, in the early 1970s. It was equal to fifty pence today, but it bought you a lot more. 

For a young boy, it was a big deal, and I would either be paid in coins or a “ten bob” banknote.

A Story About Fame and Legacy

When I was a young lad, if ever I got a little too ambitious, my mother would say to me.

“You need to come back down to earth.”

Sometimes, when I was being far too ambitious.

“You need to get off your high horse.”

Meaning — stop acting as if you think you are better than others.

An idiom.

I grew up in a time when idioms were popular.

But I had no idea what an idiom was. I was probably not paying attention to the teacher at school.

I think it was my mother’s way of letting me down gently.

Life was regularly a letdown.

I did wonder about the high horse, though.

I lived in an inner city in middle England, so the only time we ever saw a horse was on television. The racing from Newmarket, Chepstow, or some other place that I would only ever see on the magical television screen.

The television also bought us a popular series for children about a horse called Black Beauty. It was based on an original story by writer Anna Sewell. It was published in 1877, and she was paid a grand total of £40.

£40 is not much for writing a book, when you consider all the time and effort. In part because of ill health, it took her several years to write it.

But it was in 1877, and back then it might have been a lot of money.

I had to find out.

Son of My Father - A Story in Twenty Chapter Headings

The memories of a sixties' child.  Everyone has a story to tell. Here's mine in twenty chapter headings. 

Chapter One — Just a Small Funeral. 

Chapter Two — The Mysterious Cyprus Album. 

Chapter Three —  Mam and Dad.

Chapter Four — Life at Number Thirteen.

Chapter Five — Tina.

Chapter Six — Little School.

Chapter Seven — The Little Old Lady Next Door.

Chapter Eight — The Divorce.

Chapter Nine — Son of My Father.

Chapter Ten — Big School.

Chapter Eleven — Related to a Film Star?

Chapter Twelve — The Family From Hell.

Chapter Thirteen — The Girl With Beautiful Eyes.

Chapter Fourteen — A Face From The Past.

Chapter Fifteen — Holidays In The Sun.

Chapter Sixteen — The End of Big School.

Chapter Seventeen — Making Plans For…

Chapter Eighteen — Exit Door.

Chapter Nineteen — Whatever Happened To…

Chapter Twenty — Frank.

Available on Amazon as an e-book, or if you are a member, it is "free" to read on Kindle Unlimited.

Son of My Father 

A Journey Down Memory Lane. Wiping Away Errors, the Tipp-Ex Way

                                              

Until recently, I was not aware that Tipp-Ex, the correction fluid, was still available.

I have not used it in years.

There was a time when I was a regular user. It was a necessity.

For me, that was in the days of pen and paper, long before the arrival of the personal computer and laptop. And for some time after they became available, they were expensive to buy, as was a typewriter or word processor.

I tried using a typewriter, but I soon discovered that I was never going to master it.

I was left with a pen and paper.

But before Tippex, writing anything could be problematic, as mistakes stood out.

At school, most of the time, I did not know that I had made a mistake. My English teacher was the grammar checker. She would return my essays with many red marks and notes in the margin.

She would comment that I needed to improve in certain areas.

“Could do better.”

So many boys had the same three words written on their essays.

One day I noticed that a friend of mine had a little white plastic container. He was applying, via a small brush, that was part of the lid top, a white liquid to his essay.

Once dried, you could write over any mistake.

Maybe with this magic liquid I could do better?

Of course, you do have to know that you have made a mistake, and checking words using a dictionary was very time-consuming. More so if the alternative was being outside playing football with my mates.

When I Was a Lad: Billy's Boots, a Blast From the Past.

I was on Twitter X the other day, when I came across a post about the comics that were a big part of life for children back in the 1970s. The question was asked, how many did you buy? There was a picture of the comics available at the time. Not sure if it was all of them, but there were a lot. Most of them were for boys, some, like Sally, Bunty and Diana, for girls.

Here it is.

It's an impressive number. The ones that I remember buying were the Beano and Dandy. I also remember Look-in, Joe 90, Marvel and Spider-man. Most of the names here are familiar to me, and the chances are that I occasionally bought them. It has to be said, though, that I couldn't afford to buy all the ones that I probably wanted. 

Ten Signs of an English Baby Boomer.

1) You ate sugar sandwiches, because jam was not available.

2) You had an aunt who would cut your hair.

3) The local library was the internet.

 4) You are old enough to remember when England won the World Cup.

 5) You had to put money into a coin meter for electricity.

6) A cost of living crisis was the norm.

7) You watched television pictures of a man landing on the moon.

8) The girl next door was probably your best friend.

9) There were only two, then three television channels, and even then, the adults complained that there was nothing worth watching.

10) The toilet was outside, in the backyard. 

Such was life.

The twelve posts of Christmas...day eight. There is no boxing on Boxing Day.

When I was a lad, I would wonder why Boxing Day was called Boxing Day? 

No one in my family had an answer to it. 

I came to what I thought was a logical conclusion at the time that it must be named after the sport of boxing. But I also wondered why it was that on Boxing Day there was actually no boxing on the television. Not only that, but I would just be laughed at if I asked what time the boxing was on.

Then one day at senior school, in England a Secondary Modern, I was in the library, but not because as a young teenager I had any great interest in books at that age. No, the librarian was a rather attractive German lady, who had short blond hair which may or may not have been natural. She also wore short dresses, the mini skirt being quite popular back then. 

The library was often quite busy when she was on duty. 

On this day, I plucked up the courage to ask her the Christmas question that had been on my mind. Well, it was on my mind every Christmastime. 

The conversation went something like this.

“Miss, can you tell me why Boxing Day is called Boxing Day?”

She gave a friendly smile, got up out of her chair and said, “follow me.”

How could I refuse?

The Twelve Posts of Christmas: Day Six. Working For the Man.

My first job, other than doing errands and helping out at home for pocket money, was a paper round.

That's not me in the picture, but I remember the cold dark nights and early Sunday mornings, out in all weather delivering to even darker places.

Then during my final school year, I got a real job at a working men's club. Just like this one.

My job? I can't remember the job title, but it was working as a glass washer and general dogsbody in the main concert hall bar. I mostly worked weekends when it was really busy and a little rowdy at times. Furthermore, I must have been earning at least 70 new pence an hour.

At the end of each weekend shift, it gave me one of these.

Which meant I could do more than just look at things in my local toy shop.

In reality, I was never a big spender, but it did help me buy one of these.

The TV was black and white, had a very small screen, and had an indoor arial that was not always reliable. 

I think I bought it from Comet.

Thanks for reading!

The Twelve Posts of Christmas: Day Four. Andy Pandy is Coming to Play.

Amazingly, this is my most viewed tweet on Twitter X in 2023 and for a brief period, a few weeks after posting, it was trending.  It has 7200 views. Go figure.

Andy Pandy. pic.twitter.com/xeZTauSFc6

— Lost In Words (@LostInWords2023) November 9, 2023

Andy Pandy (1950)

Each episode began:

Andy Pandy is coming to play, la, la-la, la, la-la,
Andy Pandy’s here today, la, la-la, la-la.

And ended:

Time to stop play, just for today,
Andy and Teddy must now go away.
Time to stop play, just for today
Andy is waving goodbye …, goodbye …, goodbye.

If you grew up in the 1950s or 1960s, this was most likely part of your childhood. Not that there was much to watch on television. Andy Pandy is coming to play. Don't have nightmares.

The Twelve Posts of Christmas: Day Two. A Load of Rubbish

Back in the 1960s and 70s, every house in Britain had one (at least) of these. 

The tin rubbish bin. This was long before recycling and different bins collected on different dates. Everything went into this one bin, and it was small. It would be collected every week and occasionally would go missing. Sometimes there would be a heated argument between neighbours if they picked up your bin, which just happened to be newer or shinier. 

The Twelve Posts of Christmas: A Bit of Television Nostalgia.

Well, this will be ambitious. I came up with this idea, a blog variation on the twelve days of Christmas, ambitiously called the twelve posts of Christmas. Ambitious because so far I think the most number of posts that I have done in any month is five. I will have to see how it goes.

So, here's the first one.

The Christmas Radio Times seems to be a tradition for many households. It gets bought even if no one reads it. Here is a selection over the years.

1940. 

With Hitler planning his invasion of Britain, which thankfully never happened, The BBC offered its Christmas Radio Times for two old pence.

1957.

Seventeen years later, and the price had increased by a penny.

That Friday Feeling…

Here are three things that we may never see again.

1) A pay packet with actual money in it (but not much money).

2) England winning the World Cup.

3) House prices this low (I think this one is a certainty).

And they were still being built with a chimney!

But I suppose how low pay was - see number one, five grand would have been a lot back then.