Happy Father’s Day – BELATED

I was supposed to post this yesterday, but forgot to finish it off. So I’ll post it now..

It’s Father’s Day – time to celebrate the man who provided the seed to our existence, or the man who took us on even though we weren’t his, or even the parent who has been both mother and father to us. You are all awesome.

I’m going to talk about my dad.

I love my dad, and although he hasn’t been around physically for much of my life, I still know he is there for me to provide parenthood in the best way he can.

My parents divorced when I was 4 and my dad returned to live with his parents in a self-contained flat above the family business. A baker by trade, he worked hard to follow in my grandfathers footsteps and, once cut adrift from married life, he played hard too. That wasn’t to say he was a bad father. He just didn’t really know what was expected of him, and largely relied on his parents, my grandparents, to look after us when we came to stay.

I can’t say this was a bad thing. Some of my best memories are of Christmas at my Nana and Grandads, or school holidays spent at their chalet in North Wales. My brother and I benefitted greatly from these opportunities, and I will never forget them.

The thing I remember the most about these times was the fun we had, and the sense of humour shared by my grandad (now sadly deceased), my dad, and his two brothers – a sense of humour I have inherited. I love this – they are some of the funniest people I know, and I’m proud to have inherited such a fantastic trait.

My dad eventually remarried and grew up, although he will never really change. He is always the life and soul of any party, like my grandad before him, quick with a corny joke and a twinkle in his eye. You can’t really hate my dad – he is constantly upbeat, although he is uncomfortable around any show of emotion. A typical bloke of his era, I would say.

And he’s a real grafter. Since leaving the family business, he has struggled to find an alternative career as a taxi driver, a postman, a porter at Rick Stein’s restaurant in Cornwall. And although he has dedicated himself to each chosen job, and worked hard in each different role, you can never take the baker out of him and I think that, deep down, he will always see himself as this, working alongside my grandad all those years ago.

I love my dad.

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