He Was No Alfred

He was no Alfred The war was over my father was coming home from the sea he had chocolate bars, and inside one there was a picture of a film star propaganda is not new- my picture was of Clark Able I remember the bar of chocolate as being a bit stale, but sweet. I was in bed at the time, was pale and thing suffering from tuberculosis my old man looked aghast and said; is this son? A furious argument erupted, my father had to leave, never saw him again except on the bus going into town, he sat there crying and I left to avoid the embarrassment. But this was years before I met Alfred, who refuses to be my father.