Twenty years ago today, I was grappling with a truly ferocious hangover, as the night before, I’d finished filming The Crystal Maze then I’d enthusiastically joined in the uproarious celebrations at the wrap party. Then I learned that my dad had died and with the benefit of hindsight, there was something poetically appropriate about the timing of this sad news because Dad had always been extremely fond of his drink, but at the time, it was hard to bear.
I still miss the old boy very much, while I think of him often and fondly. I shall mark his passing later with a few quiet drinks and by listening to the late Richard Burton reciting Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas, one of the greatest poems of modern times.
As my Russian friends say, “Na vashe ‘zdorovyeh!”