The Day Emma’s Dad Died

June 4, 2023  

By Charlie Hutton

June 4, 2023

I think it’s important that I’m honest and open up today.

Four weeks ago and at the beginning of May, Emma’s Dad died. 

He didn’t make 70. 

It was NOT a surprise. 

And yet it was still every shade of shit. 

Emma’s Dad was as tall as he was loud. 

His broad Barnsley accent was full of sarky banter and always stood out a mile. 

His greeting every time I walked in his door? 

“Alreet Charlie lad?”  

He was born with very (very) little and did much (much) more than most. 

He was fucking great at enjoying life. 

His music (from Four Tops to Pavarotti, to Prodigy) was always played loud and for full enjoyment.  

He was endlessly pragmatic, which pissed off Emma to high hell. 

… And two decades ago, when I first set up in business, he was the most supportive of anyone.

His thoughts? 

“What’s the worst that can happen lad? Do it! Life is short. I wish I had.” 

Now for me, and as I’ve helplessly stood on the sidelines of cancer for these past twelve months, it’s become crystal clear that life is painfully short. 

Truth is, he was not sold on the concept of an afterlife. 


If there is something going on up there, I sincerely hope they have good wine, good food, good rugby and a good ole’ Yorkshire accent.

Otherwise, he is going to be a right pain in the ass for whoever’s in charge. 

The point of this email today is simple.

Time, my friend, is the one thing you cannot buy. 

Life is not promised. 

You may not reach 80, 70, or even 60. 

So today…

… Ignore all the emails.

… Ignore all the calls.

… Ignore all the arseholes.


… Enjoy your day.

… Enjoy your wife.

… Enjoy your kids.

As a wise man once said:

“We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

I’ll miss you Bri.  





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