Snapshot: Dad's golden bond with Ellis

Dad was always musical. As a former professional musician and an enthusiastic music teacher, he had a song for everything and wasn't afraid of belting one out in full – although out-of-tune – voice. He would always tell us of playing for the BBC and performing at prestigious venues such as the Royal Albert Hall. But in 2002, the music stopped. His life came to a grinding halt. He was to lose his sight after battling with diabetes. He was to lose not just his sight, but his new job, his freedom, and, worst of all, his pride and joy, his car.

It was a dark period for our family, and difficult to see such a colourful character and amazing father in such a tough situation. But in 2003, a golden beacon of hope entered our lives: Dad's first guide dog.

We asked, "What's its name?"

"Kylie I think," replied Dad. "Or was it Kelly?"

We soon found out it was a boy called Ellis. He would smile and say, "I was close enough", whenever we reminisced about that day.

Ellis seemed like a giant to my brother and me, cowering in the corner on his first visit, as we were quite young at the time, and had never had a dog before. But we soon realised Ellis's personality was softer than his smooth, silky ears.

It was Ellis that gave Dad a purpose. His love of driving was replaced by a thirst for walking, whatever the weather. Looking back, we now realise what a massive achievement it was for Dad to be active and out of the house. As walks gradually began to increase in distance, Dad's fitness increased dramatically. As his confidence returned, I would soon hear him shouting "encouragement" to me at my weekly football matches, and he did charity work for Guide Dogs.

And slowly, but surely, the music came back. Dad returned to the stage, playing for several brass bands, with Ellis accompanying him on stage and, remarkably, often sleeping through some loud musical numbers. This new passion would involve travelling nationally, and even to Switzerland, and once again our house was filled with music.

Ellis retired and handed the working harness over to Casper, the newest member of our family, who would continue to keep Dad going. Sadly, just before Christmas, Dad died, aged 57. It is only really since that we have come to realise just how much of an impact Ellis had on Dad's life, allowing him to make the most of what were to be his final years, and giving us even more memories, laughs and happiness.

And it is this picture, taking pride of place in our living room, that captures that transformation, and the bond that they formed. Dad smiling, instrument in hand; faithful Ellis, right by his side.

Alex Harris

Playlist: Happy days when we were five

Chantilly Lace by the Big Bopper

"Chantilly lace and a pretty face and a pony tail hanging down / That wiggle in the walk and giggle in the talk / Makes the world go round"

Chantilly Lace seems a bit of a strange song to have a connection to, especially when you weren't even a twinkle in your mother's eye when it was released in the late 1950s. But when I hear it, it takes me back to when my whole family were at our happiest. In the summer of 1993, my twin brother and I celebrated our fifth birthday, with friends, family, Mr Magic and lots of cake. What more could a child ask for? Memories come flooding back of my twin brother running round in the garden with his little red sandals on, and me sharing a packet of Smarties doing an impression of Cookie Monster. (If you have ever watched Sesame Street you will know what I mean.) I remember one of many frilly, flowery dresses that my mum took great pride in dressing me up in, and Dad in his maroon cord trousers, happily tidying all the paper plates left scattered on the patio by all our friends.

A song from the 1950s is an unlikely addition to a child's fifth birthday party playlist at that time, but we grew up knowing and loving most songs from the 50s and 60s, as Mum played them most of the time, in the car or blaring through the house. We loved singing and dancing along to them as much as Mum did – and does now.

A lot has changed since our fifth birthday. There are friends we have grown apart from, some family members have moved away – all the things life throws at us that create great change and loss. But I am thankful for all the memories I have locked away – and songs like this to bring them back – and bring a smile to my face.

Camilla Nutley

We love to eat: Auntie Bee's eggs

Ingredients for four

Six eggs

One tomato

A knob of butter

Salt and pepper

Remove the stem and chop the tomato into small pieces. Beat the eggs in a bowl. Heat the butter in a saucepan, and then add the tomato and sauté until soft. Pour in the eggs and mix gently over a slow heat until the eggs are cooked but still soft and creamy. Serve on toast.

Auntie Bee, my father's sister, and her husband, Uncle K, were so called because her name was Bunda and his Killian, names we as small children found difficult to pronounce.

To their great regret, they had no children of their own. However, they were part of a large family on both sides. Including my brothers and sisters, Auntie Bee had 22, Uncle K had 15 nieces and nephews, and they were never short of visitors. They lived in a seaside town in County Waterford and their house was full of nephews and nieces through all the school holidays.

Auntie Bee was a wonderful cook, imaginative and innovative at a time when food in Ireland was often plain and dull. The scrambled eggs with tomato were just one of a number of her specialities, a regular high-tea dish on Fridays – always a meatless day in the 1950s – and were followed by a selection of her homemade cakes and pastries.

They had a beautiful modern house built to their own specification, once featured in House & Garden. It was a wonderfully warm, welcoming home, full of books and music and surrounded by a beautiful garden with a view of the harbour in the distance.

Bill Thompson

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