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Six years ago my dad lost his battle with colon cancer. He died just before 1am in York District Hospital. Six years. I still think about my dad a lot – he has a granddaughter he’ll never meet, though she knows who her grandad is thanks to the amount of photos I have. There’s video too, though I can’t face watching them – I know I have film of us just chatting about random things, nothing in particular – sitting in the conservatory talking about life. I’m glad I filmed it, though maybe my memory is making it seem like a bigger thing than it is.

Anyway, six years. When my mum brought some random slides for me to scan in with my slide scanner, this one surprised me the most. Me, my dad, my sister sitting on the memorial at Marston Moor, our local battleground in York and one which my dad based a lot of his wargames ideas around (I think?). It had a significance for him, though history being my weakness I’m never quite sure what.

The surprise? We scattered his ashes here. It’ll always be a special place.

Marston Moor