with my father. He was nearly 60 when I was born and carried on working until he was over 70. He was an emotional man. We children had to be kept out of the way because he was old and worked hard and worried about the business. He married a much younger woman and wanted a quiet life. He should have intervened to protect us from her because she wasn't very nice to us.
from The Guardian: The Saturday poem: Pieces of me: Wendy Cope, poet
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