So what's special about the 21st of November, well it's that time of year that I think once more of my father Ken Holt.
When I say father, I mean the man that brought me up as if I was of his own flesh. It appears that for some reason my parents couldn't conceive. And in April 1959, I was born the illegitimate son of June Sedgmond and someone who I don't know yet.
A lot of things have happened over the years, including meeting the other two children of June, they have accepted me as if they had known me for ages and I am eternally grateful for this.
But back to Ken, he was born on the 21st of November 1921, this would make him 90 tomorrow. It's stupid now, but there's a lot about him that I don't know. How he met Pam, my mother, what happened to him over they years and of course, never saying goodbye to him when I had the chance to because of a stupid argument
There was a record that hit the charts when he died, one of the lines goes:
"I wasn't there that morning, when my father passed away, I didn't get to tell him all the things I had to say".
It's too late now, but all I can say is I miss you.
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