Skip to main content

Blue Monday 2024 - Memories of Dad

You’ve heard of sleeping policeman. Well my dad was the cooking policeman. Growing up I was so proud to have a dad that was a policeman. His job always sounded so cool and exciting. 

Then there was his ability to follow a recipe (the same one time and time again).  He made an amazing macaroni cheese (the best), shepherds pie, lamb curry (from scratch) and oh my goodness the Devil’s food cake - four storeys of ultimate chocolate cake!


I loved to be able to talk about the fact that he was born in India. That he was brought up in South Africa. That he had a three-legged cheetah as a pet.  Stories of sat on a wall eating mangoes with monkeys  

Dad was also a knitter - having learnt from his grandma.  And I can remember our loop cardigans and the waistcoats he knitted.   Duchess, our dog, brought home after night shift. The fish tanks and trips to all of those aquatic centres  

Being a South African, he loved his tech. He always had the newest gadget (oh that satellite dish) and a cool car - remember the two tone Capri?  Dad bought me my first (and second) car and I became a very good mechanic - being able to tell what the problem was from a change in the way the car drove or how it sounded. 

Dad could turn his hand to absolutely anything and he loved to garden - even using our climbing frame for his beans when we were kids.  Having the house with a swimming pool and the biggest BBQ - summer pool parties. Cooking in a chef’s hat - or turban. 

It was Dad that gave me my love of photography - Rachel do you remember having to stand still for AGES whilst he got the perfect shot?  Visits to the park, afternoons at the scrap yard - climbing into the towering cars!  

Saturday night visits to the video store and the age it took to chose a film.  Sundays at Granny’s. With a roast (or a curry) and then the Grand Prix or the pools on the telly. Dad would fall asleep with his hands behind his head but we couldn’t turn over as “he was watching that”.  

Learning to ride a bike and my BMX. School shoe shopping in Bromley.  The holiday to France and the inflatable boat in the waves. The fact that everything used to taste or smell lemony.  Coffee two sugars. 


The stories of all the sporting injuries and the fact that Dex plays rugby are because of Dad.  The way he would tickle you until you cried. Vodka and coke in the evening - we could all pour a mean one. Fried banana for breakfast - and peeling fruit for wine. 

Midnight snacks of sugar puffs, rolls of fruit pastilles, the acceptance of ties as presents from me and bars of fruit and nut.  Giving the grandkids money “don’t tell Mummy” - and Eliza coming away from Ashwater with pocketfuls of change “to buy sweets”.

Oh my his ability to perfectly wrap a present in a way that would take you ages to get into it. Our giant crackers rather than stockings at Christmas. 

That tiny kitchen he and Tess had. And the visiting squirrel, the hedgehogs, birds, foxes. Oh and Christmas 1991 - the one where we ALL came together.  I have so many memories to thank you for Dad. No longer in pain, may you rest in peace. 



Comments

  1. They are all lovely memories girls, all to cherish. I hope he’s taken them with him. He certainly was a man of many skills and enjoyed it all I’m sure x

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Thanks for commenting

Popular posts from this blog

London Calling

I am no longer based "in town" and I never thought I'd miss it. Yet every Wednesday when I am London bound I find myself looking forward to what I will be greeted by. It's not the hustle and bustle - the fast moving commuters and slow shuffling tourists. It's not the shops and bargains abound. It's the buildings, the Underground, the knowing smile you may get from a fellow passenger, or the sarcastic comment of a Tube driver. I love London and its diversity. I love that you can walk just a short distance and be greeted by a whole new world. I love that you can randomly bump into an old friend you haven't seen for years. Making our big world smaller every day. I love St Paul's how proud it stands in the heart of the City. The fact it has survived wars and still attracts throngs of people to it everyday. I love the pomp and circumstance of the City and its Idiosyncrasies. I love that the museums are free and that you can meander around beautifu...

100 Sad Days; Day 34: Say it Like you Mean it

Elton John was wrong. Sorry is not the hardest word. In fact it is all to easily said and not meant.  For years I thought that flowers were a sad excuse for a sorry. Now I realise that what is worse is the empty shell of a sorry. The echo of an unmeant apology received in hope but ushered in haste.  I cannot count the times I have heard the word. From a forced apology "say you are sorry" to one that is said unkept.  We all say sorry. We bump in to someone and manners tell us to apologise. We drop something and we apologise. Sorry here is lighthearted but still meant. Kids fight or shout and apologise as they are taught to do. Sometimes they mean it sometimes they just say it. They are kids after all.  Adults should know better.  Sorry should mean just that. It isn't an excuse for bad behaviour. It isn't a "make everything better with one word". It should be said with the mouth, the heart and the mind.  If you are sorry then be sor...

LuluSLR: What depression means to me (first published in July 2014)

As a teenager we lived next door to a lady with depression.   She and her husband were lovely people, they would always stop and chat, but sometimes she would retreat and we wouldn't see her for months. Instead we would only see Ernie on his daily walk. Then suddenly she would be back beside him with long hair (Gladys always had short hair). I didn't really take much notice but can remember my mum commenting about Gladys and her long hair meaning she had been depressed.   Now, looking back, I can see how they were connected. How Glady wouldn't want to leave the house and thus her hair would grow and she would look unkempt when she did reappear. I get it now. Growing up depression wasn't really something I knew much about. I know members of my family have suffered with it but it just kind of passed me by. After all we all have sad days or  short periods. Well that's what I thought. Just get on with it. Keep smiling.   However my short periods would get longer...