Great Regulars: "It's a bit of a faff,"

he says, while adoring the way that it's his expertise with the paraffin can, the funnel and the little brass handle that delivers this hard, white light.

So we sit ourselves down on sleeping bags, blankets and cushions. The tilley lamp sits on a fold--up wooden chair, my father sits on another in the middle of us. Looking round the tent, I can only see our faces catching the light, as if we are just masks hanging there, our bodies left outside in the dark perhaps. In my father's hands is a book ---- Great Expectations ---- and every night, there in the tent, he reads it to us.

from Michael Rosen: The Guardian: Michael Rosen: my father's Great Expectations

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