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. 



Labels:
Location: London, UK

Comments

  1. Tess16 January 2024 at 08:06

    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

100 Sad Days: Day 29 La La La

Not all abuse in a relationship is physical. Just like all illnesses are not obvious. Although they are "mental" it doesn't make them any less significant.   An Open Letter: Your words are often harsh and I let them float over my head. I know it's not you thinking. It's alcohol, it's tiredness, it's money, it's family, it's drugs, its work, it's whatever excuse I decide to label it with to move on. Sometimes they cut so deep. Putting small cracks in my heart that need love to  fill the gaps. When this happens forgiveness takes a little longer.  When it is constant the opposite happens and I pull down the shutters. I stop feeling. I stop caring. I am numb. This is when I want to never wake up.  And then there are the unforgivable things. The venomous words spat from your mouth. Not in anger. Not in rage. Just in hate and apathy.  What do I do with those?  Where do I go from there?
Post a Comment
Read more

Mum's Got Cancer; Part Four

Can we ask just one thing of you:- Please stop asking me how Mum is.  I know you mean well and you honestly do care; you want to know that she is ok: but we can't tell you that. In fact we are tired of having to repeat ourselves and remind ourselves that Mum isn't going to get better.  That this is it.  That we can't help her but can on;y make her comfortable. Maybe ask how I am, or if there is anything you can do, or just give us a hug.  Maybe just squeeze our shoulder and don't say anyhting.  If we want to talk, I promise, we will.  Sometimes, like my Blog, it is cathartic.  Other times it hurts in a way I cannot explain. The best thing to do is send a message, a text, an email, and if/when we feel like it we will respond.  Forgive us if we see you are calling and cannot take your call.  It is tiring, emotionally, to drag our way through a conversation we do not want to have. We know you care and we don't want to appear rude but...
2 comments
Read more

I Hate Smoking

Let's be honest: it's a mug's game. My main memories of my Granny are of her with a cigarette in hand, of being sent to the "cabin" to buy her mentholated Dunhill. Add to that the memory of my time with my Dad shared always with a cigarette - one after the other. Of the chorus of coughing in the mornings and of now watching him struggle, with COPD, knowing this is a terminal illness that was brought upon himself. Supposedly my Grandma died of old age (but i reckon it was the cancer that got her first) and despite my Dad giving up smoking over eight years ago the years of damage have taken their toll. I chose a path away from cigarettes and I don't mind telling people how stupid I think they are for smoking - friends, family, strangers. We are all touched by cancer at some point and I recently got the all clear after twelve long years of close attention. I am thankful that it was caught before I needed anything other than day treatment and b...
Post a Comment
Read more