Sunday, 16 June 2013

Fathers and sons

A Fathers' Day to remember for an assortment of reasons.

I woke up this morning to five cards (I only have two kids, as above), with Jamie's handcrafted doodle of him and me the ace in the pack.

I think he has me to a tee. 

And then it was off to the fun fair which has been visiting Guiseley this weekend.

Now, even on Fathers' Day, you would think that such a trip would be one for the kids.  But you would be overlooking one crucial fact.

Having grown up a mere amble from Barry's Amusements in Portrush, I - like almost everyone else from that glorious part of the world - know my amusements.  And forget Barry's Big Dipper (stop it), for me the Waltzer reigns supreme. I love it.

Really, I could spend all day on the Walzter.  Indeed, it was the one aspect of Michael Jackson's life that made me stand back in envy.  Michael Jackson had his own Walzter.  I don't think a man could be luckier than that - even with Jermaine as a brother. 

But over the past five years, I haven't had much of a chance to go Waltzing. Until last year, Jamie was too small - and then was was too scared. 

But today, for me, on Fathers' Day, he agreed to go on with me - twice.

I don't remember feeling so proud (or sad - but let's move on). 

Which takes me to my own dad, who I spoke to a little earlier to wish him a Happy Fathers' Day too.

After exchanging pleasantries, he announced a neighbour had just told him that, following a recent death, he was now the oldest resident on the street.

"Where do I go from there?" he asked.

"I wouldn't like to say," I replied.

"And a good night to you too, you c***."

That's my dad.