And as it was neither a wholly direct question nor a definitive answer, the obvious outcome was that nothing changed.In truth, I don’t think my father would ever have quit.At home, he was a diluted version of what everyone saw on TV.
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Or I’d be playing badminton with a friend in the garden and he’d appear from behind a hedge.
In restaurants, he’d do routines in front of the waiters.
They loved it, but I’d beg my mother to rein him in.
He’d materialise at an intimate moment when I had girlfriends over.
My father would shake his head as Ernie chatted to me during rehearsals: at work: Eric was extremely focused.