Okay so I’m painfully aware that Father’s Day was on Sunday, this post is 2 days late and I apologise. I considered not posting this at all but then it’s not my Dad’s fault that I was stuck working all weekend and didn’t get time to write/schedule or post this, he still deserves a post and also I did one for my Mum . So here we are with 2 blog posts in one day, crazy.
So a bit of context, I’m the first born and am the spitting image of my Dad, according to everyone ever, I have his teeth, cheeks, long legs and crinkly (but I think Kind) eyes- Hello eye cream by the age of 20! I am like Dad in other ways too, I believe it is from him I developed my tendency to eat my food in the largest mouthfuls possible, must be from years of watching him devour bowls of Viennetta ice-cream. We are also both as likely as each other to sit in the corner, trying not to get involved in one of my Mum and my Sister’s epic arguments as quite frankly we cba with it. I like to joke that I’m my Dad’s favourite and that in contrast Ellis (my sister) turned him grey, but in actual fact he doesn’t have favourites because he’s too nice for that. If you ever met anyone more laid back than my Dad then they’d be horizontal because over the years quite frankly he’s let me and Ellis get away with murder.
It is thanks to my Dad that I have to be at the airport at least 3 hours early or I will enter full panic mode, this is due to years of following him round East Midlands listening to him recite ” Do you have the passports? The gate’s been announced, lets go! Oh god did I lock the front door?”- it’s enough to give anyone a complex I’m telling you. Despite the annoyance Dad’s organisation caused whilst travelling abroad, it means he has been the perfect, punctual, personal taxi service over the years. I’ve lost track of the amount of times he’s sat waiting outside gigs to ferry me and my friends home from Manchester, Leeds and town or the countless airport runs at silly o’ clock in the morning.
The thing about Tim is that even if it’s gonna cost him money (which it quite often does) he will do it to get you out of his hair/ car/ make me independent. My poor Dad has (willingly I might add) bankrolled me through Uni, driving lessons and getting a car and even paid my first ever (and hopefully only) parking fine! I imagine when I was born he probably had a little cry, not because I was here, but because of all the money having a daughter was going to cost him- let alone 2!
One thing I love about my Dad is that once you get him talking about something he’s interested in, he won’t shut up about it. This varies from music- especially music, history (hhhhmmm what’s my degree again?), sports and all sorts of other random things. Thanks to this over the years I have soaked up a raft of useless information that would only come in useful in a pub quiz (we are a killer team at Trivial Pursuit at Christmas). I’m pretty certain Tim single handedly made sure I knew all there was to know about my History A-Level when my teacher failed me and I completely owe my musical education to hours and hours listening to his endless playlists on long car journeys. Why else would a 10 year old have ended up listening to ACDC?
I want to thank my Dad for spending hours in the pool on holiday with me and Ellis when Mum was just too busy being a sun worshipper to join in with water polo, or for risking going out in the car with me when I was learning to drive and then forcing me onto the motorway and into the outside lane once I’d passed, you are very brave. Not only have you been an amazing Dad to me in my 20 years, you’ve also tolerated my naughty little sister and acquired and bankrolled yet another teenage girl, will you ever not be outnumbered?
I know you love me really, even if I do tell you your ears need shaving, subject you to all the snapchat filters and financially prevent you from retiring, but if you didn’t have me who else would listen to you going on about Winston Churchill, Isle of Wight Festival or Formula 1? Thanks to my Dad, from a young age I have been educated in the art of playing Skalextric, spent many hours reluctantly birdwatching in the middle of October, met Mickey Mouse and witnessed many a pathetic Sheffield Wednesday performance ( and therefore learned many swear words by age 9).
So basically this a just an ode to Tim, without you I would be lost, skint and thick so Thankyou!
Love you lots