Thursday 3 July 2008

Holey father.

My flat is too small for my father.

He is a guest so gets the only bedroom. I get the futon that seems to be made of rough chipboard with added concrete and I set up camp in the living room.

Each morning at 7:30 he is already awake and bored and ready to continue his holiday. My father has worse ADHD then a small child with a coke problem AND he is my father and wants constant companionship from whichever of his children is closest…….right now that would be me.

My dad is a big chap, over 6 foot and broad but his knees are a bit dodgy and he has a bit of a stagger so, what with me being visually impaired and this flat being rather tiny, we are both continuously crashing into each other and tripping over all the piles of clothes and books and plastic bags full of recently acquired stuff to take back to Zambia that now cover the living room floor (when I am not sleeping on it.)

Within two days I am haggard and looking and living like a bag lady, rummaging under chairs for spare socks and desperately, continually searching for lost earrings, keys, mobile phones, my notes for work and my sense of humour. My dad says he is worried that I am ‘letting myself go’ and suggests I let my brother’s beautiful Brazilian girlfriend, 18 years my junior, give me some fashion advice, then, without noticing I have gone puce and am trying not to howl, he sits himself down in the middle of the living room blocking all exits and starts watching reruns of Top Gear with the sound up so loud the ceiling vibrates.
When he gets bored we will go somewhere to feed on dodgy prawn masala then hit every pub on the way home for medicinal brandy.

I will lie, holding my stomach and groaning on the chip board futon until dawn and then at 7:30 we will begin all over again.

My Dad is one of the greatest intuitive doctors of his generation with an OBE and various other awards cluttering his sideboard to underline that very fact. He saves lives..all the blinking time. He is hopelessly over generous and although he has been working tirelessly for 40 years he is still easily taken in and his hospitality and gifts have been so constantly abused that he is nearly broke himself and certainly will have to carry on working well into his 70’s. He is a very good man but he is also irresponsible, sometimes cowardly, childish and needy. He confuses nobility with sanctimony and is scared of emotion and naked truth. I worry about him all the time.
He makes up puns so bad they can make your nose bleed. His humour is forever warped to the tune of the Goon Show circa 1958.
I think I am like him and I hate that. I think I am like him and I am deeply, deeply proud.
In other words…my dad is over for a visit..the flat is too small and I am losing my mind.

He is in London for a couple of days and I will try and find where I stashed my toothbrush and my only clean T-shirt. I think they may be under recycling bin in the corner……


6 comments:

Louisa said...

Dads.......what a special gift they are!!!! Like you....I love my Dad achingly so and at the same time he drives me to despair with his stubborness .....and like you think it affects me more coz i see myself in him and often catch myself doing and saying exactly what infuriates me!!
But would I be without him.....not on your life!!
So you coming to London this weekend?

tam said...

aaah. I'm pretty sure your dad saved my life at least once. I have a hilarious and fond memory of him also trying to save various of our pets when stayig at kapani. the warthog that had sleeping sickness and others. Miranda will have to help me remember which pet it was tho that he stuck the injection needle into and whatever it was he was injecting squirted out the other side of the creature's little body. I think it was a civet. haha! ask him if he remembers..

Miranda said...

Yes indeed it was the civet.... But he still saved its life! Hugs to him.

tinku said...

Likewise, am happy to have my family all visiting right now but at times I running for cover to have some downtime for myself.

Hang in there T!

xo

Suzie said...

Dang! I just spent a week with my mom. It will take me several weeks to recover. I feel your pain.

I love your dad but like all family espeically our family it can all be too much. Send him to a really rowdy gay leather bar thats what i did and it settled him down a little bit. It took several days for the shock to wear off.

Chimera said...

Thank you all!! Dad loves telling that civet story! Ooofff....what a week already! Oy vey!
T x