My Dad turned 55 today. When I left home to go to Uni, he wrote me a letter every week. He'd type it all, including the address on the front of the envelope. I still feel nostalgic for type written letters. His letters were always wonderful, and regularly had me both rolling around laughing and sometimes crying. Now he has moved on to email, and it's not quite the same, still he has a way with words, and writing as he talks which is a combination of straight observation and sly hilarity.
This week he had tales of a firefighting course at Lake Tinaroo, new safety orange uniforms, runaway grand-children, mustering cattle and Alfred (my nephew) recording the backing tracks for his new raps. As usual it makes me slightly homesick and happy to hear from him.
Much love and happy birthday Tony.