The happiest memories of my dad from my childhood mostly seem to revolve around the outdoors. Not that I was an outdoorsy kind of kid.

But I remember going out to the park to fly a kite, or learning to ride a bicycle along the side of our house in Willesden Green. A little later, we built a rocket kit, powered by gunpowder and a little remote detonator, which launched from a little tripod stand. Dad took us out to the parkland behind Wormwood Scrubs where there was plenty of space and we'd launch it up, losing the capsule in bushes once it parachuted back to earth.

My memories of my life are not very detailed, but these are the little glimpses that flash through my head when I think of playing with my dad, and which I shall miss.