...Herbert Thompson, of Leeds, was a striking figure on all counts. Tall, handsome, with thick white hair which had a habit of falling over his forehead, small, twinkling blue eyes, and clear-cut features, he arrived in the dark of the evening. Too young almost, to comprehend, I was dimly aware of his expected arrival, being told that he was my godfather, and brought downstairs early to be ready to greet him.
Running into the hall with Mummy and to the front door, I was suddenly enveloped, and almost stifled, by an enormous figure who wore a wide, red-lined opera cloak which closed about me and hid me in its dark folds. Drawing off his opera hat, Godfather raised me high to kiss me. He seemed a giant, the wide, swinging cloak making him vast. The timbre of his voice was strong, and I drew shyly away from his overwhelming masculinity...
Mrs Vivien Hirst recalls visits from her godfather, who was the Yorkshire Post's music critic for 50 years.
Mrs Hirst's vivid and well-told recollections were gathered into a book, Family Of Four, by her nephew, Raymond Prior.
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