NotJustAHatStand

Today would have been my dad's 60th birthday. When I was little, I thought that 60 was OLD. And I mean, cardigan, slippers and pipe OLD. But my dad wasn't old. Far from it.

He used to take a kite up to St Andrews and fly it on the beach. He owned, and loved, all the Harry Potter books, and he read The Hobbit and the Lord Of The Rings for the first time when he was in his 50's (after I pestered him about it for months). He owned a set of Boomwhackers, which he took to teambuilding sessions he was running (presumably to the bemusement of his colleagues). He said it was for breaking the ice, but I suspect he just enjoyed having a muck-about with them. He loved larking about with the cats, and if he'd lived to see any grandchildren he would've had a ball with them as well. He gave anything a go, and he was very into gadgets and new technology. Despite having a posh car for many years, he took the bus to work in his last job, listening to his trusty iPod and reading. He loved every second of it, and marvelled at the iPod and how it had revolutionised the way he listened to music.

He definitely subscribed to the notion that you're as young as you feel.

I remember the day he died like it was yesterday, but one of the most vivid memories I have is of driving back from the hospital along the M8 to Edinburgh, in the dark. Although it was the 13th of November, the good people of Broxburn and Uphall hadn't yet got bored of setting off fireworks, and all I could see for miles were fireworks of every description exploding silently in different colours. In the darkest moment of my life thus far, I was fascinated by them and how pretty they looked from a distance. I watched, thinking of my dad and his next great adventure. For I think that's how he would have viewed it.

Happy Birthday Pop.

Labels: Birthday, Dad

Two posts in one day! The Ambassador is spoiling you.

It was reported today that Robin Cook's epitaph refers to his opposition to the war in Iraq, including the words 'I may not have succeeded in halting the war, but I did secure the right of Parliament to decide on war'.

Robin Cook always makes me think of my dad. He knew Robin quite well (we used to get a Christmas card from him every year with a picture of the Houses of Parliament on it, which I remember being very impressed by). My dad was heavily involved in the Labour party for many years, long before Tony Blair became leader of the party, and Robin came to our house a number of times. I remember having a serious conversation with him about our goldfish.

I respected Robin for his stand against the Goverment (once I had grown up of course, and moved on from worrying about my goldfish), and I know my dad did too. My dad never really said much about Tony Blair and his Government, which was very unlike him - he wasn't backward at coming forward (as my granny would say). He stayed a member of the party long after he had given up on the campaigning side of things, in fact he was a member until the day he died, but I think he was disappointed in them and the fact that they had become mired in all the same sort of shite that the Tory government before them had.

Robin died in August 2005, and my dad in the November of that year. My dad wasn't able to go to Robin's funeral, which I think he was quite upset about. And if Robin had still been here in the November, I think he might have come to my dad's. It's strange, they were very similar in a lot of ways - both highly motivated achievers with a real social conscience - but their paths in life were very different, meeting for a period of a few years in the 1980's. Neither suffered fools gladly either - if their roles had been reversed, my dad wouldn't have stood for Tony's nonsense either.

The world lost two good men in 2005.

Labels: Dad, News

We bought a Christmas tree yesterday, so I'm feeling rather festive today. We braved the weekend crowds and atrocious weather at a garden centre near Stirling and managed NOT to kill each other or anyone else. I think this deserves some kind of award because the people in that garden centre were not displaying any of the goodwill towards their fellow man that you might expect at this time of year.

The new tree is not real unfortunately (I love the smell of a real tree) because our cats would probably eat the needles and get sick, because I hate hoovering and because real trees are a bit more high maintenance than the fake kind. But all the same, it's lovely - it has twinkly little white lights all over it, and I bought some fancy new red and silver decorations for it. I'll upload a picture tonight if I can get a good one. Coco was verrry interested in the big green thing that suddenly appeared in the living room. Unfortunately she seemed to think the best way to investigate it was to chew the ends of the branches (where the twinkly little lights are wired on) so I spent most of last night chasing her away from it with the Dustbuster, which is the only thing that she's scared of.

Every Christmas for as long as I can remember (and, I'm reliably informed, before that as well) I spent at my mum and dad's house. Until last year, when everything in my life changed irrevocably. None of us could face a Christmas at home because my dad died in November 2005, so we all went up to my sister's. It was lovely (my sister and her boyfriend put on a good spread), but different in so many ways to the last 24 Christmases I'd had. And this year it's going to be different again. My sister and her boyfriend are coming down to Edinburgh, and everyone is coming to OUR house for Christmas Breakfast* and present-opening and then we're going to my future Mother-in-Law's house for dinner.

I'm actually really excited to be having everyone round - we're so happy in the new house it's not going to be a chore at all. We're going to work really hard to get it looking lovely, make lots of lovely breakfast food, and spend the morning in our new house with our VIP's (our mums, my sister and her boyfriend and my wee cats).

I was dreading it last year, so it's nice to be looking forward to Christmas Day again.

*Because a) although we'd like to we don't have the room to facilitate Christmas Dinner and b) the thought of dealing with giblets makes me want to vomit.

Labels: Christmas, Dad, family, Holidays

... was the worst year of my life.

In the January of that year Fiance's dad was diagnosed with bowel cancer. It turned out to be too advanced for them to treat and he died, after a courageous battle with the disease, on the 2nd May aged 58. Watching Fiance and his mum reel from their loss, I was made to realise how thankful I was for my own happy little family.

On 11th November, Fiance got an early morning phonecall from his mum to tell him that his uncle (her brother) had died suddenly in his sleep. He was 52. We were stunned by this news, partly because Billy was such a character he seemed invincible, but partly because we couldn't believe one family could be so unlucky. I now wonder if our saying over and over at this time that things couldn't get any worse, had anything to do with what followed.

Two days later, on 13th November, I was having lunch with friends and got a phonecall from my mum to tell me that my dad had collapsed and been rushed to hospital with a suspected heart attack. I raced to the hospital, praying that everything would be ok but knowing deep in the pit of my stomach that it wasn't. By the time I got there my dad had passed away. He was also 58.

My father worked all his life, and in everything he did he gave 100%. He could do anything (or so it seemed to me when I was younger). He knew how to put up wallpaper, change a tyre, read a novel in one sitting (something I have never managed), lay concrete, fit carpet, put together a killer PowerPoint presentation, write a fantastic CV, do long division and he had a knack for keeping young children amused for hours on end. If he didn't know how to do something, he gave it a bash and generally ended up succeeding in whatever he was doing.

He worked for 30 years in Ferranti and all its various incarnations. He studied part time for an MBA in the six years before he left Ferranti (or BAE Systems as it was by then), and two weeks after he graduated he handed in his notice, and went off to a fairly senior post in a large luxury car manufacturer where he stayed for six years, before becoming disillusioned with it. He then left to work in Scottish Enterprise, which he adored. In the short time he was there (a year) he had managed to cause some ripples in the calm, but inefficient, pond that was Scottish Enterprise. In short, my father was a driven man, but he also loved his family and would do anything he could to help us - his career was important, but nothing compared to his devotion to his family.


For the last year, Fiance and I have been trying to deal with the fact that we both lost our fathers at a fairly young age, and to support our mothers as best we can. Back in November last year I didn't see how everything could go on as normal without my dad in this world. But life has gone on, difficult as it's been, and it will continue to do so. In one way it feels like we just lost him yesterday - like how could a whole year have passed without me talking to my dad (or asking him to nip round with his drill and put some shelves up)?

But in another way it feels like a whole lifetime ago that both dads were just at the end of the phone, and we didn't have to worry about our mums being lonely or taken advantage of by dishonest tradesmen. I get a horrible tight feeling in my chest every time I leave my mum's house, and see her standing there waving me goodbye - alone. I picture my dad standing behind her, making faces, tickling her or just giving her a hug, which is what he used to do and which meant I could leave satisfied that they had everything they needed, in each other. I'm grateful that I had such a shining example of a happy marriage right in front of me for 25 years - I just wish it had lasted a few more years. But it will stay with me when I embark on my own marriage with Fiance and I hope we'll be as happy as our parents.

I can't imagine being at this stage but I guess it'll happen in the blink of an eye. So much has changed in the last year and a half, I feel like a different person. Even this time NEXT year I'll be a different person than I am today (I'll be married for one thing - ohmygoodgod). I'll always miss my dad, and I'm so sad that he won't be walking me down the aisle next September, but I know he'll be watching me, and I know he'll approve. Even if he did used to call Fiance 'Meatballs' (his name is Campbell).

Labels: Dad, Loss