I remember punches flying, and seeing three men in a circle, I only found out dad had been involved when mum came running back screaming, ‘Oh, God. Your father been bashed. We have to get him to a hospital.’

To say my father was good man would be a lie. I remember him in a series of flashbacks, moments of violent domestic mayhem and toothy smiles, followed by a gentle pat on the head. When he died of massive brain injuries I was relieved.