So here’s the sad reality of a hidden link and a missed opportunity that I’ve just discovered!

Those of you who know me and my husband Darren and our company TOrbitalDesigns.com well are probably aware by now that we have a strong affinity with the geometric pattern called "The Flower of Life". It's not only the logo for our company, we use it just about everywhere in our designs, layouts and illustrations. I’ve always been drawn to it way before I really understood what it represented and its deep origins and roots. Of course, if you draw lines connecting the outer points of the petals it creates a 6-sided polygon, a hexagon. It has sacred properties for many cultures and has been used throughout civilisation as a symbol of life, nature and so on. Take for example the humble bee and its complex honeycomb structure. I don’t intend to go into all the what's, where’s and how as this isn’t the purpose of my story and there are far more knowledgeable people out there who can explain it better.

When my Dad died he appointed me the executor of his will and estate. No mean task may I add for someone who is more used to putting pen to paper to sketch out a design or write a Risk Assessment for a festival build or structure, than writing a thesis for a Masters Degree in Materials Technology while holding down a job and bringing up a family. It has to be said that Dad and I have not always had a fluid relationship. I've always tended to do the opposite of what he's asked of me, been stubborn in my conviction and taken the path less trodden. Now looking back I realise that we were more like each other than we cared to admit. However, unlike me, his start in life was full of adversity and having lost his beloved father at the age of 15, through sheer determination and hard work climbed up through an amazing and illustrious career that started with building and running an experimental nuclear reactor in his early 30’s right up to his last few positions as Director for Climatology, Environment, Oceanography and Space Technology Research programmes for Europe and personal adviser to Prince Laurent of Belgium on Environmental matters.

He never quite understood my taking the direction I did in life. All this despite his passionate hobby for amateur theatrics and his wonderful Tenor voice which won him 1st prize as Tenor Solo at the 1968 International Eisteddfod Llangollen where he was up against Placido Domingo. Oh yes and he both wrote, directed and built scenery for a number of plays during his retirement. He would often leave any mention of us and our company in his round-robin Xmas letters to colleagues and family to the very last paragraph and frequently it would simply say “Charlotte & Darren continue to do their party business”. Which although is strictly correct, for a man of many words when he wanted and not short of embellishing a story, I'm sure conjured up images of children's parties etc in the recipient's imagination. Our worlds appeared to be at such opposing ends that we spoke little about what we did.

All this aside, he was my Dad and I truly, truly loved him as much as I know he loved me. He could be fiercely critical, difficult to please and incredibly embarrassing to us children, especially in our teens when more often than not he would burst into loud song while doing the weekly grocery shop and would take issue with anything or anybody if he felt they warranted it. He was however an honest, fair and thoughtful person and was extremely, loving, tender and protective of us, his family. He was our constant sheltered island to which we returned when the stormy seas of life became difficult to bear and the loss of him is still too difficult to truly contemplate.

So here I am sat in his library office, the sun creeping across the worn-out carpet, surrounded by scientific papers, books in all languages on fascinating topics from biotechnology, to desertification, to Shakespeare and Shelly and even as recent as Greta Thunberg. I'm trying desperately to concentrate but the too warm afternoon and the siren's call of books that I have yet to discover are distracting me from my executor ball and chain task. High up on the shelf is a collection of books from his University years and I'm curious about the knowledge and insight they contain. It's a chance to breathe in the scent of musty pages that were once thumbed by a young man who dreamed a dream. One of them at the end of the shelf called “Lyell’s Principles of Geology”, 1853 appeals to me. I take it down and settle back into his chair. As I'm carefully turning pages, some with covered illustrated plates out falls an envelope addressed to Paul Gray, stamp dated Cambridge 1958. It's been slit open and pressed flat like a small animal skin. It's covered in hastily pencilled equations and diagrams. I go to slip it back in between the pages when something familiar catches my eye. There on the envelope in all, its crudely hand-drawn beauty is the flower of life, our logo the core of our designs. Here in front of me is a common bond a link between our opposing worlds. A link created before I was even born. I sit there stunned. How did we miss this? Here was something we could have talked about and I would have listened. Here was something that was both scientific and creative. I had shown him many times photos of our designs, but he never seemed to say much. I want to talk to him, but it's too late for earthly words.

In his latter years, he fought hard to keep his Parkinson’s under control as it slowly drained him of his independence. He bore his illness with courage and his usual determination. It took all his energy and concentration to keep going which frequently exhausted him and left little to fire up his lightening fast, inquisitive and sharp observant mind. Of course, he desperately missed my mum, the light that made his world worthwhile. Then the Covid pandemic swept in and robbed him of what little mobility he had left and of any physical contact with his family and friends.

When my Mum died I dedicated one of our Noisily Festival liquid stage lamps to her by placing an inscription and a carved treble clef, her insignia, inside. Every Noisily I feel she is, at last, experiencing the joy and passion that I have for the work that I do with Darren.

So although I cannot speak to my Dad about this newly discovered link that closes the gap between our separate pathways in life, I can dedicate our new "Flower of Life" lanterns to him. To a man who was clever, stubborn, determined and successful. To a man who will always be my first love, my very, very special Dad.

I love you Dad!

Charlotte (aka Charlie x)