Today’s blog is dedicated to my Dad because it’s his birthday. No matter how many times I’ve bugged him about it, I’m fairly sure he never reads the blog so I can just go ahead and call him a selfish idiot who cares about nothing but himself. DISCLAIMER: If you are Geordie’s Girls’ Dad and you happen to read the blog the last sentence is just a joke, although if you’d read the blog regularly you’d already know that and have a handle on my sense of humour when I write. So there!
My Dad, he’s been in this job for 34 years now and I’m sure that he will agree that it’s not been an easy ride, what with the 30 house moves, few divorces (of his own and his kids) heartaches, funerals, grandchildren and of course Ben. Ben is our family Springer Spaniel who is about 103, or 14 in human years and every month my Dad vows not to buy another bag of dog food as he’s convinced that as soon as he does Ben will keel over and the food will go to waste. Ben is tone-deaf, or at least that’s what my Dad tells everyone, we think that he’s just sick of my Dad’s crap and chooses in his senility to blatantly ignore him. I’m concerned that every time I visit I am educated on how it only takes 6 paracetamol to put a dog down, especially one who is riddled with every ailment under the sun. But I know he wont do it, because when Ben dies, a teeny piece of my Dad will too.
My Dad loves cars, he has a freakish ability to remember a road or route map having driven it only once and that was usually 17 years earlier. Granted he used to be a Driving Instructor but really Dad, Google Maps have it down now you don’t need to know every road! I used to watch Top Gear as a young teenager so that we could chat about cars on the motorway when he collected me for the weekend, still got to be a TVR Tuscan for me Dad. He is a superb driver though and since we’ve moved closer to him and my step-mum he’s managed to shave 4 minutes off the journey time by doing 100mph down the A1. My Dad loves arsing around and winding the kids up something chronic, usually until I am the one saying ‘Right pack it in now Dad your just winding her up’. He loves to take the kids out walking and makes stories and games up along the way to keep the moaning at bay. These are the stuff of wonderful childhood memories, galloping around with sticks and fishing poles, lobbing stones into the waterfalls and eating your packed lunch on the rocks, and thats just my Dad. I’ve only ever seen him drunk three times in my 30 years, once so drunk that repeating ‘Look, I’ve got a chip on my shoulder’ then laughing hysterically while holding an actual chip from the take away on his shoulder, dripping grease down his shirt. Yeah, there’s a reason he doesn’t drink much. My Dad is a good-looking bloke, it’s his tache I’m told, but people have referred to him as the silver fox for years. And just as a special note for my younger sister, no he doesn’t have a specific tache comb x
We’ve had our ups and downs me and my Dad, when I was a kid I knew I was in deep trouble when my Dad was called to speak to me. I fell out with him over both of my weddings (not the choice of bloke I might add, although I could have done with a heads up the first time around!) It has taken me a long time to realise that I don’t need to agree with everything my Dad says and it’s okay to have a difference of opinion. At the same time though I find myself asking for his advice more and more and enjoying just spending time chewing the fat with him.
The best bit of having a Dad is that he’s amazing with his grand kids and hearing him talk about how funny it was when they did this or that fills me with complete joy.
So Happy Birthday Dad, this year I got you two beautiful grandchildren who love you all the moon and stars, again x