HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD

Today is my Dad's 89th birthday and I just want to wish him a good day though truth be known he probably doesn't know what a blog is......last year he gave us a bit of a scare and spent most of the summer in hospital but he's rallied round and defied medical logic once again to be looking forward to attending his grand-daughter's graduation next week. Only the second generation of the Press family , as Kinnock once put it, to go to University.
When he came to MY graduation, 29 years ago, I thought he was knocking on a bit! In fact, he was only 60 but when you are 22 that seems very old indeed.
Born in 1920 to parents who left Northern Ireland after having the gall to fall in love across the religious divide, he was sent back to Portaferry on Strangford Loch for some years when five kids proved to much to fend for in 1920's Manchester .
My well-worn theory is that the fresh air and fresh food he had in his days as "Johnny Manchester, " as the local kids used to call him, are partly responsible for such amazing longevity .
I hope I've inherited his genes and ability to withstand less than abstemious behaviour .....I certainly inherited his interest in politics, trade unionism, and love of an argument over a drink or two. Now counting down to 90...........fingers crossed. Happy Birthday, Dad.He's pictured above with me and my sister at last year's Mayor-making,