As kids we took it for granted that Dad could fix our toys, and of course we boasted about his skills to friends who then brought their equipment for a makeover. His workshop became a hospital for toasters, vacuum cleaners, sound systems, blenders – you name it, he had a wrench to fit. He would have been justified in saying he didn’t have time, but I never heard him say it. This has always been his way of making the world a better place, and I have a hunch that he takes a bit of a perverse delight in outwitting big business and built-in obsolescence.

I’ve seen Dad absent-mindedly pat a stereo on the head as it went out the door: “Live on! Play another song!”