We miss my daddikins so much . I’m so glad that I can work from home, at my mum’s house, every day, and stay here as much as I want to. Last week I spent 3 nights in a row at mine. It was quite good. But I’m not staying there again until my mum’s BP is under control. And then, eventually (when other, more pressing issues have been resolved) I’ll get it ready to put on the market, and buy somewhere closer to mum and my brother. It’s only about 1.5 miles away, but it’s the opposite side of town, and my mum doesn’t drive.
I went downstairs just now and asked my mum how she is. Then I asked how she really is. I told her she can talk to me, and she said there’s not much to say, is there. She’s right. We all know how each other is feeling, roughly speaking. We miss my bright, bubbly, silly dad. Right now, he’d be out in the garden, with his baseball cap on. He’d pop in now and then for a brew and to watch the weather forecast. You can’t interrupt him when he’s watching the weather . And then mum would always say that when she asks him for the forecast, he can never recall what they said .
He’d also be making a fuss of my cat, and giving her names like “pussel wussel” which I continue to call her, in his honour/memory.
When I went away, my dad would look after my cat, at my house. But he went above and beyond . He didn’t just come in and feed her and then leave. He’d sit and keep her company, and listen to the radio with her, and watch TV with her. He’d also invariably stock up her food, and probably fix something in my house, too. And he’d give me lovely email updates about what happened when he went to see her.
If ever I was flying anywhere long haul, he’d send me email updates, telling me what country I was flying over. I told him last time I came back from Australia that we get that info in flight but that it’s so lovely to receive it from him too, knowing that he was tracking me. He tracked my train journeys, too, and would more often than not turn up at the station to collect me.