For some reason, I had a night of rather vivid, weird and wonderful dreams last night. Having been to see The Blockheads last night, I wasn't thinking of Fathers day at all, but one of my dreams was that I was having a drink with my sisters Valerie and Caroline. Val lives in America and she broke some rather odd news. She revealed that Dad had faked his own death because he wanted to move to Florida and was now working as a brain surgeon in Miami(????). Given that Dad would be 107, and had no medical training, much as I loved him, I wouldn't want him performing brain surgery on me.
When I woke up and put on the radio this morning Jumoke Fashola on BBC Radio London was talking about Fathers day. I thought about my dream and smiled. But Dad died in 1987, so I've had 38 Fathers days without him. In truth, when he was alive, Fathers day was not a thing at all. I don't recall ever doing anything to celebrate it. In fact, I only really became aware of it when I had my own kids. I recall that when my daughter Lizzie was three, she came up to my bedroom on Fathers day and said "Daddy, I have a special Fathers day present for you". I'd been out the night before, was feeling worse for wear, but put on a brave smile. She then handed me a can of Fosters and said "It's your favourite". As it was an act of love, I had to drink it, which was the last thing I felt like, and tell her how lovely it was.
I realised that Fathers day was more a thing for my children than it was for me. My wife's father lived until 2008 and we always made a fuss of him on Fathers day. I felt far more comfortable with that than taking accolades myself. In truth, I have always felt a complete fraud as a father. I really don't think I am particularly good at being a Dad. My wife has been brilliant as a mum, which meant that the kids have grown up to be amazing, but I am far too selfish and lazy to be a good Dad. The things that interest me, such as Ska and Punk Rock music and Football, I've tried to share with my kids. The things I do that I think they like, such as barbeques and Sunday roasts, I largely do because I like them. It is pure luck that the kids do as well. I was absolutely shocked to overhear my eldest daughter telling my son, when he was going through a phase where we didn't get on, how lucky he was to have me as a Dad. I was intrigued to hear why. She said "Why do you think all of our friends come around here, Dad is easy going and he lets us get on with things". She then listed a whole bunch of people they knew and listed all of the terrible faults of the fathers. She also pointed out that they all knew I'd throw myself under a bus to save them. Other good traits? I'm not a racist, I am tolerant of everyone and always try and welcome people. And I always am up for a party and some fun. When I had spare cash, I spent it on brilliant holidays for the family and when there was a crisis, I was never phased. Then she said, of course Dad can be a right twat at times, but so is everyones Dad, he only is a twat when something gives him the hump. Most of the time he just gets on with it and is fine.
Blimey I thought. Then I thought about my own Dad. I was the youngest of six. I was 24 when he died. My eldest brothers were 40 years old. They had a fair crack of the whip and knew him properly as an adult. I only really had one proper evening with my Dad interacting as adults. It was special, although at the time it was just a night of snooker, alcohol and curry. It is odd to think that it was fourteen years ago when I passed the point that I'd spent more of my life with Dad than without him, My brothers will reach that point next year. My Dad was actually very like me. He had his own agenda. He saw raising kids as 'womens work'. His job was to pay the bills (although Mum always reckoned that if she didn't manage the cash, we'd be on the streets and she was probably right). Like our house now, my parents were always having visitors, putting people up, having people around for drinks. My Dad did not have my love of music. His thing was travel. He was a bomber pilot in WW2 and then a commercial pilot for a few years. Unlike me, Dad hated football. Cricket was his thing. I've always bonded with my son over football. I don't really like cricket, so we missed that. The one thing we did enjoy together was snooker. When Dad was short of a snooker partner, he'd take me to the Mill Hill Services Club buy me beers and play snooker with me. He'd chat with his mates there. I'd sit in the corner listening. They'd drink, smoke, share stories and jokes. By todays standards, the joke would be sexist and racist, but in the 1980's that was simply what was considered funny, with people like Bernard Manning and Jim Davidson telling jokes on primer time television.
I recall one night listening to one of Dad's mates going on about his wife, telling sexist jokes about his mother in law etc. I'd never really heard anything like it. I must have been 20 at the time. As we walked home, Dad turned to me and said "Have you ever heard anything like that. You have my permission to smack me in the gob if I ever talk about your Mum like that. What a miserable life that bloke has". Dad said "If you marry someone you should love them, but most of all you should respect them. I hate people who go on like that". It really struck home to me. Sure, I bicker with my wife all of the time, but I love her and am full of respect for her. Last week at this time, we were recovering from a highly successful Mill Hill Music Festival. If it wasn't for her, there would be no festival. Of course a lot of people contribute and the rest of the committee are vital, but she is absolutely the lynchpin. She is organised and calm. If I got one thing from Dad, it was at that moment. He made me realise that respecting your partner is the sign of a real man.
When it comes down to it. Dad was a real man. He made me aspire to be a real man as well. What is a real man? A real man is someone who always fulfills his commitments. A real man is someone who treats their partner with love and respect and apologises when, as will happen in relationships, we don't be the person we should be. A real man is someone who will throw themselves under a bus for their family if that is what will save them. A real man is someone who their friends will turn to when we have nowhere else to go. A real man is not Superman, he has no special powers, he has insecurities, he makes mistakes, he screws up, but he gets up and keeps going, learning from his mistakes.
I've had 38 years with no Dad. For me, Fathers day is always tinged with melancholy. It is not a day for me to celebrate. I am off now to mass. I will say a prayer for Dad. It seems appropriate, I just wish he was there in person with me, rather than just in spirit.
I only had 24 years wih him, but the mark he left is beyond comprehension. I think that all the things in life that I've acheived that are good are because I had the example of Dad in my first 24 years. But having said all that, no I wouldn't let him do brain surgery on me, not even when he was in his prime!
I made this little video a few years back. It seems appropriate to give it an air.
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