Dads

                           


                                   Dads

Funny things aren't they? So many different feelings for them at so many different times of your life.

Early years: eager for daddy to come home from work so you can tell him every detail of your school day, who pulled your hair, exactly how rank the liver and bacon was for lunch, having a full-on strop when he pretended to eat your last jelly baby.

The teen years, the "wait till your father gets home" fear, the look that told you maybe no, you wouldnt be stepping out the front door "dressed like that", the sharing a love of music & '"educating" him on the genius of the Pet Shop Boys, Blondie & Adam Ant, the same as he educated you on the likes of Sinatra, Sammy & co. The lifts to here there and everywhere, the coming to get you in before your mother went loopy that you were late. For having your back, always, but you not really understanding why.

Your 20s: the friendship, the joking around, the debates, the laughter, the tears, the finally understanding why he had your back. Always.

And that's where my story ends. No next chapter. Just a brutal 'The End'.

So if you've still got yours, cherish him. Hug him, kiss him, listen to him, humour him, laugh at those bloody awful jokes you've heard 30 times before, cringe at that oh-no-not-again dad dancing, ask him all the stories you've ever wanted to know, all the gossip about all the family, all the history. Call him, tell him you love him.

Because one day, there'll be no more chapters to your story. 

                 https://youtu.be/wmDxJrggie8




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

March

I love March. I love that we've waved goodbye to February and the little tell-tale signs of the approaching spring start to surprise us. I love waking up with the sunrise and leaving the house whilst the family is still sleeping. I love hearing the birds tweeting in the bare branches of the trees as I walk down the hill: chirping their songs of happiness that a new day has dawned. I love witnessing the days battling to claw back the light from the nights and finally winning. I love my most treasured role in life, being a mother, being celebrated by my beautiful daughter. I love that in a week's time we'll be back on British Summer Time and that I will start to thrive and feel alive again. I love March. I hate March. I hate that over the last few weeks every shop I enter reminds me that I am motherless. I hate that for 19yrs I have had to avoid 'those' aisles because my loss is still so raw. I hate being reminded that for 7yrs before that when, she was only
Read more

Fourteen

1981 Adam Ant was hurtling his way up the charts with Ant Music, Sir Freddie Laker's SkyTrain was giving the big boys of the airline world a run for their money, London got its first Marathon and yours truly took up roller skating! I use the term 'took up' in its loosest sense. My parents had given in to my constant badgering for a pair of roller boots and made up the extra cash needed on top of my birthday/Christmas/spare pocket money that I had been ardently squirrelling away for what seemed like forever. Having an older brother working for a wholesaler finally paid dividends for me when I became the proud owner of a pair of shiny red white and blue mean machines:  4 chunky wheels and a 'reliable' front brake. Time would tell how reliable 'reliable' would be. Quite why I thought this purchase was a good idea has never been clear to me, other than boys! I mean, I had problems staying vertical on the 2 feet I was born with let alone bringing 8 wheels
Read more

Laundry

Image
Do you ever sit back and contemplate life and how many changes you've witnessed during yours? You may be still fortunate enough for everything around you, and at your disposal,  to be all that you are familiar with. I am currently feeling all of my 50 something years as I sit here writing this. Much as I did whilst visiting  a local rural museum, exhibiting an eclectic array of antiquities, amongst which, this relic sparked a myriad of memories. A tin bath. Known in our house, quite simply as, The Tin.** And it was this similar find  that sparked those memories and got me thinking as to how life had changed, just during my lifetime thus far. The Tin. Growing up as we 3 did in the 60s-80s, we were not afforded the luxury of a washing machine. If there had been money for it there most definitely wasn't space in a scullery kitchen that you good scarcely swing a cat.* Washing by hand was the order of the day back then, with an occasional trip to the launderette if funds allowed. Th
Read more