Sunday shoppers scurry in and out
of card shops for their last minute ‘fathers day’ cards, I don’t know who
should own more guilt - the card companies or the offspring who forgot to
prepare. Being the green hat thinker that I am, I hate having to conform; I
dislike being told what to do and how to think. Mothers day, Fathers day,
Valentines day – they don’t have the meaning that they should – you aren’t
celebrating the person because you want to, you are doing it because Hallmark
have told you that for this 1 day out of 365, you should put a year’s worth of
thought into 24 hours. Well, yes, I did buy my dad a card, and yes, I have
brought him a present, but Dad, this is also for you.
Although my style, my (hmmm shall
we say) life choices, my music taste and my general ‘nu-like’ mannerisms are an
echo of my aunt, you can see that I am most certainly a combination of my parents. People always recognise my mum’s personality
in me; they notice my sarcasm, my humour, my passion, my strength and yes, my stubbornness
– and they see that these traits all come from my mum. But, without my dad, I
wouldn’t be the character that I am today. How many women would spend their
weekends doing DIY? Climbing ladders, putting up shelves, changing plugs? My
dad is ‘do-er’, and I want him to know that he has taught me well (but that is
not to say that his assistance is unrequited – because let’s face it, I am
incredibly easily distracted).
Now firstly, let you me tell you
about my dad. He’s not very tall, he’s not a distinctive dresser, you won’t
find him down the pub or watching football, if you saw him on the dance floor
he would be rocking out to his own ‘dad-like’ moves, if you passed him in the
street, I doubt you would even notice him – but in spite of you passing him by,
you know what? He’s the best dad that anyone could ever ask for, and my world
is a better place, because no matter how old I am, where I am living, who I am
with, or who I become, I will always be my daddy’s girl.
I know I can be a bad influence
on my dad. Even now, I get him in trouble. It was always the case of asking
dads permission before asking mums, because they would always provide a united
front, so if dad said yes, mum had to go with it. I know that my dad is always
there for me, whether this means taxi-cabbing, garden hacking, washing machine
plumbing, loft ladder testing or trips to ASDA, he’s only ever a phone call
away.
Shortly after moving into my
first house, I was home alone one evening, when two people tried their luck and
entered my kitchen whilst I was upstairs. I barricaded myself in the bedroom, and
shakily grabbed the phone. Any logical person would have dialled the police, but
I called my dad (who then told me to call the police). The police came, and so
did my dad – armed with...i think it was a spade or at least the handle of one!
For this paragraph just picture the full on spade...because, my dad is like the
avenger...but with a spade! You see it started in my teen years, when I was
seeing some guy, who decided to turn up at my parent’s house after a night of
clubbing to see if I was awake. He threw some pebbles to the window to wake me
up – genius...had it been my window and not my parents. This was the first formation
of my dad and the powerful weapon ‘the spade’.
My mum and dad are how parents
should be. They have always done everything for my sister and I and put us
before anything else – this is not to say that they spoilt us, or let us get
away with murder, nope, had there been a naughty step back then, I would have
found myself seated upon it for many an hour. I guess, the point I am making is
that my mum and dad are a partnership and my dad isn’t one of those dads who
sit on the side line, he is in all of my memories. I remember the old moped
that he used to ride, and every so often I was allowed to ride with him as he
came down the drive – it was only about 7 ft, but I loved it. I used to love the
smell of the bike gloves, because they smelled of my dad. Even now, when I
smell fresh ink it reminds me of when he would come home after being at work
all day.
I also remember my dad being
dressed up as Mickey Mouse for my birthday whilst my mum sweated underneath a ‘snowman’
costume. My mum used to help out at the school all the time, she would teach
sewing, and reading, she would come on school trips. When I was in year six, my
dad came on a school trip to Maldon. He knew all about boats and looking back I
am so pleased that he went – even if I didn’t show it at the time (I had just
got together with a boy called Jamie and was way more excited about my first
kiss, than my dad’s knowledge of knots).
My dad has watched my grow into
the woman I am today – this can’t have been easy. I know that I have tested his patience on more than one occasion (as
he has mine) - I remember him threatening to sleep outside my bedroom door when
my first boyfriend came to stay. My dad and I share the same temper and we may
find we disagree on many a thing, but he has been there every step of the way,
and he’s rescued me from myself so many times over the past year, I can never
repay him. So, this blog is to say, that I don’t say it enough, but ‘Dad, for
all that you are, and all that you do, I am truly grateful and I love you very
much’
Happy Fathers Day.
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