Today would have been my Dad’s 67th
birthday. Dad died nearly two years ago
and I miss him every day. This blog is for him.
He wasn’t a perfect parent (so, just like everyone else then) but he was
my Dad and he taught me shit about
being a parent. Here’s what he taught
me:
1. It’s fine to swear
in front of your kids. Dad used to swear
a lot. One of his favourite childhood
stories was of him and his brothers and sisters running around a tree when
their mum and dad were out shouting “Shit-bum-bugger-arseholes!” When Dais did
her infamous ‘Fuck’s sake’, part of me panicked. The other part was like ‘It’s fine, Dad used
to swear in front of us all the time,
he just used to tell us we weren’t allowed to say those words.’ Which we didn’t. In front of him. Probably, my two year old daughter is lying upstairs
now, muttering ‘Fuck’s sake’. That’s
fine. I can’t hear her.
2. Make your kids
believe they can do anything. At aged 17
I, having never been anywhere abroad by myself, hatched a plan with a mate to
go travelling around the world after we finished our A’ levels. I planned us a route – we were going
EVERYWHERE! Argentina, Jamaica, South Africa, New Zealand, Fiji, Papua New
Guinea! The plan never came to fruition for various reasons (I eventually ended
up inter-railing around Europe and Jesus, I barely survived that!) but at no
point did my Dad try and stop me or tell me I was foolish for planning to see
literally the whole world (some of it in the grips of guerrilla warfare!) in
just six months. I’m hoping that had I
attempted to go to Papua New Guinea, he would have said something. The point is, he didn’t piss on my parade
when he didn’t need to.
3. Make your kids
stand on their own two feet. I have had
a job since I was 14*. Aged 14, my Dad
got me a job at a village pub, waiting tables.
I was a really, really shit waitress.
(Mainly because I was terrified the whole time!) But it taught me to be
a bit more confident. It took me out of
my safe little bubble of school and family.
It taught me that I could do shit that made me nervous. Most importantly though, it gave me cash to
buy Just Seventeen, lip gloss and Diamond White**.
4. Be generous. Dad
was so generous, in many ways, but mainly with his hospitality. He
loved a good party and would always provide booze and food aplenty, whatever
the occasion. When he died, some of the loveliest
comments my friends made were about his generosity – how he cooked them a great
bacon sandwich whenever they stayed over or about how he splashed the wine
around readily. I’m nowhere near as gregarious as my Dad was but I hope, when
they’re older, D&Z will be as happy
bringing their friends home as I was.
5. Just care. Care in any way you can. Dad was not an affectionate man. He rarely hugged me, and he often struggled
to say what he wanted to, if what he wanted to say was ‘soppy’ or ‘emotional’. But he loved me, and I knew it. I knew it because he worked hard for me when
I was growing up, so I could have the things that other kids had. I knew it because he wanted to send me to the
best school he could. I knew it because,
when I told him I was up the duff, with twins, by some guy he’d never met, he
got pissed and then cried and said how actually we should celebrate that two new
babies were coming into the world and that could only ever be a great thing and
that was what mattered.
My Dad was my partner in crime. He was a fellow lover of spreadsheets, wine, fags
and swearing. I miss him.
*Just to be clear, the job was part time. I also attended
school. I just re-read that sentence and
it sounded a bit like I was forced to leave school to work at the pub. Not the case!
**In the early 90s, Diamond White was a very fashionable drink. Very Fashionable. If you were 14.
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