Remembering my Dad ..

Today is my Dad’s birthday.  He would have been 95.

Mum and Dad

Dad with the love of his life – Mum !

I had started my memoirs when he was with us and had posted a few of the most vivid memories onto this blog,  but need to complete it so the next generation will know the wonderful legacy that he has left us.

Meanwhile ….this blog has been named after a cherished memory.  My very first post replicated below describes this.

Thank you my Darling Dad for leaving me with such a beautiful memory that has stayed with me from my infancy.  May the Angels play you sweet lullaby’s as you rest safe in the heart of your Maker, our God.

……..(My first post) ….

It’s been a long idyllic break since I left the confines of the commercial world and it is time to start my “ramblings”.

Unfortunately,  Rambling Rose,  my dad’s name for me, has been taken by many servers so I’ve settled instead for ‘wondering rose’ which is closely linked.  I ramble because I wonder and many are my ‘wonderings’.  I wonder about this and I wonder about that till I sometimes drive the family round the bend.   I am sure my Dad had no idea how I would turn out when he sang this lullaby to me, in a voice almost as glorious to me as Nat King Cole:

Ramblin’ rose, ramblin’ rose
Why you ramble, no one knows
Wild and wind-blown, that’s how you’ve grown
Who can cling to a ramblin’ rose?

Ramble on, ramble on
When your ramblin’ days are gone
Who will love you with a love true
When your ramblin’ days are through?

I can’t promise that anyone is going to love me or my ramblings but the Rose goes where it must – where the sun draws it …. and so too must I go … wherever The Son draws me.

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Memories are made of this

The Rasquinhos

  1.  TooRa Lama Lama  and other stories under the Big Tent

Dad, I remember so clearly you singing to Romany and me  … in a soft voice with your fingers striking imaginary keys  “Toora Lama Lama ….Toora La ma Lama  … can you hear the rain?  ……..Toora … lama.. lama …Toora lama … lama …. Can you hear the rain?

I cannot remember the rest of it – or even if there was anything other than “Toora lama lama”. ( Googling it now I realise it was probably an adaptation of the Irish lullaby Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Raloo) but  it was always gentle and soothing.  Although we did not fully understand our feelings then,  we felt comforted and secure. It brought a sense of  peace and of “being” –  one with nature and the rain – just to hear that verse being repeated so gently and softly whilst we fell asleep.

I also remember your singing “How much is that daaaaaawgie in the WIN…DOW”; you made us feel so compassionate for the little dog.

And will not easily forget the stories under the “Big Tent”,     Continue reading

And so I start … finally!

It’s been a long idyllic break since I left the confines of the commercial world and it is time to start my “ramblings”.

Unfortunately,  Rambling Rose ,  my dad’s name for me, has been taken by many servers so I’ve settled instead for ‘wondering rose’ which is closely linked. I ramble because I wonder  and many are my wonderings.   I wonder about this and I wonder about that till I sometimes drive the family round the bend.   I am sure my Dad had no idea how I would turn out when he sang this lullaby to me, in a voice almost as glorious to me as Nat King Cole:

Ramblin’ rose, ramblin’ rose
Why you ramble, no one knows
Wild and wind-blown, that’s how you’ve grown
Who can cling to a ramblin’ rose?

Ramble on, ramble on
When your ramblin’ days are gone
Who will love you with a love true
When your ramblin’ days are through?

I can’t promise that anyone is going to love me or my ramblings but the Rose goes where it must – where the sun draws it …. and so too must I go … wherever The Son draws me.