When I was growing up I thought that my father was perfect. He was my god – I strove to be like him. He had the belief that his behaviour was right and everyone else’s was wrong, if it were different from his own. This was so powerful and undeniable to me. I had no one in my life to make me think that maybe there was another way. But my father didn’t know the truth. His father didn’t and his father before him didn’t. They were simply passing on what they had learned in the best way they knew how.