You probably know that your father has a reputation as a trenchermen, and can eat ‘most’ folk under the table? When I was a lad working in NW Lancs at BAC Warton aerodrome, it was not unusual to be joined by your father and his entourage, Paul and Mary, for lunch. ( I confess it was me who christened the trio, the Siamese triplets, Peter, Paul and Mary) Strangely he always travelled in a pack, but he always drove for the 120 mile round trip for lunch!! The first inkling would be a call from Anne Chadwick in the office, to say that ‘management’ was on its way and that I had better look busy when they arrived. This early warning system had an acronym, like everything in IBM, …’ ANDREWS’ … Anne Dane Road Early Warning System. On arrival, he would enquire as to where was good place for lunch? I had found that the Plough at Freckleton had recently opened its Swedish ‘Scandahovee’ table at lunchtime. For a modest price you could visit the buffet table as many times as you could manage, all for a single price. Unfortunately they hadn’t budgeted for the likes of your dad. Having demolished his first plate of meat, cheeses etc., he rose for seconds, the only other taker was Paul Rouet, who retired hurt after only half of his second plate. We all gazed in admiration, as Dad once again rose for plate 3, the world record for the restaurant. I returned to the Plough a week later to be told that your father was barred. He maintained his reputation for many years, but I was there when he paid a return visit to Sale Golf Club, where he finally met his match. The Golf Club was a favourite lunchtime watering hole; the menu was simply bacon and egg barm cakes, times as many as you can eat. Normal folk managed 2 or at a stretch 3, any further and you were amongst the Wigan pie eating finalists. On the day of his downfall, he was in the presence of greatness, Tony Platt, equally famous for his eating and beer drinking prowess, both got to 3 barms with ease, then Tony ordered two more, Dad rose to the challenge, we stood amazed and got ready with the buckets. Slow pace, but eventually the 4th went down, your Dad returned the challenge, and ordered 2 more, the 5th egg and bacon barm they were in ‘no man’s land’. Tony finished his, and topped it off with a pint, your dad managed half, and said that his bacon was a bit fatty, and was only awarded a 4. The story is still remembered at Sale Golf Club. The man with insatiable appetites, though beaten is still in the local Hall of Fame, perhaps you could rustle up an egg and bacon barm when you visit and then tell him the story.