My father, Andrew Dunn, who has died aged 82, turned his hand to most things. He was at various times a dentist and orthodontist, theatre and record shop owner, jazz lover, entertainer, actor, boxer, journalist, poet, wine and food connoisseur, odd-job man, inventor and go-cart engineer.
The facts of his life cannot convey the furious energy of a man who was passionate about so many things. The fourth of sixth children, he was born in Kenilworth, Warwickshire, to Amy and William Dunn, chief engineer at the car manufacturer Alvis. His early childhood was marked by expulsion from several schools – he either excelled at a subject or made everyone laugh instead.
Andrew's home in Coventry was bombed during the second world war and he was evacuated to Leicestershire, where he attended Loughborough grammar school. During his time at Birmingham University studying dentistry, he became captain of the athletics union and of the British universities boxing team. He was a columnist for the Birmingham Post, which covered the cost for his flat and trips to Ireland, his spiritual home where he spent happy holidays sailing around Galway in a boat he built with a friend.
On qualifying as a dentist, Andrew married a schoolfriend, Sylvia Matheson, who had just qualified as a doctor. National service took them to Bridgnorth, Shropshire, where they built a successful dental practice and raised four children. He was a successful self-publicist and ensured his name was never far from the local press with various activities, which included converting a deserted chapel into a theatre and running a jazz record shop.
He became a part-time orthodontist and was briefly chair of the British Orthodontic Society. Retirement took Andrew and Sylvia to Wales to live near two of their children. He started building go-carts, as well as a track, and had DIY projects in all the family homes. He became increasingly reluctant to leave home as he said holidays were only there to make you appreciate home – and he already did that.
Andrew's funeral celebration took up two slots at the cemetery and the coach ride back to the village that he had shared with four generations of his family was enlivened by songs and stories.
He is survived by Sylvia; his children, Siona, Cailzie, Conal and me; nine grandchildren and three great-grandchildren; and by two brothers and a sister.