Sherrie time
Our columnist, actress and TV star Sherrie Hewson, shares some precious memories of her amazing dad... such as why she still loves a certain Geordie tipple and how he got her to give up smoking before she could really start!
Hello readers,
I think I mentioned I come from Nottinghamshire originally, which is Robin Hood territory. The other day I was bemoaning how the city of Nottingham has changed. Beautiful buildings gone, such as one which played an important part in my life, the Palais de Danse, where I met my first boyfriend. I remember one night on the dance floor being given a cigarette, and I tried it because I fancied the boy who gave it to me. I suddenly realised my dad, who’d come to pick me up, was looking straight at me from the side of the room… That night, when we got back, he sat me down having not said a word all the way home. He gave me a thin cigar, which he called a cigarillo, and made me smoke it all. I was sick all night, and that was the end of my smoking days! My dad was amazing. He was a singer, a crooner like Bing Crosby, but my mother disapproved of his late nights in clubs as he did like a beer or two. When I was older, l’d go with him and we often sang the Frank and Nancy Sinatra song together, ‘Something Stupid ’– such wonderful memories.
Dad’s claim to fame was he could always get me off to sleep. I found out the reason for this, he would fill my
‘Dad gave me a thin cigarillo and made me smoke it all... I never smoked again!’
bottle with Newcastle Brown Ale! I still love it to this day. He was from Sunderland and two of my lasting memories were when we stayed with his family at Christmas. I’d sit on his knee in front of the coal fire on Christmas Eve, trying to stay awake and he’d say, ‘listen…’ There’d be a thud and a clatter. “He’s here,” he’d whisper. Oh, the excitement! He’d carry me to bed and we’d listen to more clattering until
I fell asleep. In the morning, as if by magic, my pillowcase at the bottom of the bed would be full
– such joy!
Best of all was on New Year’s Eve. My grandma would make amazing pies of all kinds. The house was overflowing with food, with not a drink until midnight. After the ‘first footing’, when a handsome dark-haired man crossed the threshold to bring luck, the party really started. Dad would dance with me in his arms until, yet again, I would fall asleep on his shoulder, contented. As I drifted off, I could hear him singing softly in my ear, “Then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you.”