[After a year of being wonderfully looked after in a Welsh care home my Dad, Derek Boyle , died from COVID. The following are my words to be read out for his funeral this coming Wednesday] To know a life, even ones own, is an impossibility. Dad wasn't a Dad for all of his formative years, during his early days with his brother and sisters in London, joining the RAF at the age of 15 and the life long friends he made and lost in ventures around the world. The girlfriends, the Christmas presents, the school pranks, the comics read, the radio shows listened to, the troubles got into and the beers had. These are the years we all try and remember for ourselves let alone be able to speak on behalf of someone else. Dad never really spoke of those times but I know the man they made, the Dad he became, and the outlook it created. The beating heart of a man determined to see fairness winning, for family to be at the centre of everything, and a man of his time that struggled with an ever inc