There is a lot of shit my Dad did to me that I won’t even go into, so whilst he’d never have been father of the year….
‘For balance, because no-one is all bad
These are the things that I loved about Dad’
- How lovely he was when we were tiny
- On the rare times he played games with us (usually during the power cuts when he had no choice ‘cos the pubs were shut), he was fun
- He made a mean roast dinner and fantastic bread
- He loved jazz and musicals
- He loved his garden
- He had conversations with the dog when drunk
- He was funny when drunk
- He hated Maggie Thatcher with a passion (he didn’t understand politics so I don’t think he even knew why)
- He looked like Eric Morcambe
- He could be generous when he had money
- He was chatty when drunk
- He refused to go to church, much to Mum’s dismay
- Sometimes (well rarely) when you thought he was about to explode with fury, he would see the funny side of something and laugh instead
- He was stubborn
- At Christmas he gave us presents that were really for him (didn’t love this at the time!)
- He never let anyone tell him what to do
- He would let the budgie eat out of his mouth
- He refused to go to my Nana’s house, much to my Mum’s dismay
- He would bitch about the price of a cup of tea in cafes and tell you how much a tea bag costs from the supermarket every time we took him out
- Towards the end of his life he became the most picky, cantankerous old bastard and was never happy with anything, and it was amusing to watch others follow his shopping list/instructions to the letter and watch their faces when he still found something to complain about. Suffice to say, I tore it up and he got what he was given and moaned just the same….
- He loved and was grateful anything I baked/cooked for him in his final days in a nursing home.
- He would hide the goodies in the wardrobe so the nurses wouldn’t find them.
- He was the archetypal, Northern, working class inverted snob, and took an instant dislike to my posh fiancee at that time. Turns out he was right to do so….
- He had a horrible death, but I was there with him, so he didn’t die alone.
- He was ambivalent about religion and God, so it was ironic that he was there when I witnessed a miracle
- He love ballroom and once danced with a very famous actress and never ever stopped banging on about it
- He loved me in the end. In his way.
So, R.I.P. and Happy Father’s Day Dad, you miserable old bastard, and I’ll see you on the other side.
P.S. The tea’s are on me. 😉