Thursday 14 July 2011

My Father. Part one

Some memories of him:

Punching you in the thigh whilst he was driving (you were in the passenger seat) to give you a 'dead leg'.

Being forced to watch his clothes catch fire whilst welding, without flinching and moving the welding plate you were holding. Being screamed at if you did flinch.

Having to make his lunch, and risking it being thrown at you if it was wrong.

Being constantly 'whipped' with a tea towel while he screamed with laughter and you screamed with pain and fear.

Being tickled till you though you would suffocate from screaming for him to stop.

Being told you were too stupid to be his daughter, for asking a simple question.

Being told 'but it's not an A', no matter how hard you worked at school.

Being pinned into a robot costume where you couldn't breathe, move or walk, so he could win the fancy dress prize.

Lying in bed, hearing the backdoor, then their voices; straining to hear your name, dreading the lounge door opening.

Hearing his footsteps climbing the stairs to come in and hit you for whatever you'd done wrong that day.

Eating Sunday tea, watching him scoff all the nice stuff while you got the dregs (proper Malt Loaf vs Mum's hideous facsimile of it, Jaffa Cakes vs plain Digestives).

Getting the blame from her when he lost his temper, just for being in the room.

Waiting 2 hours for him to remember to pick you up from horse riding.

Wishing he'd go to a parent's evening or a school play, like some dads did.

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