Began the day at 04:30 hrs writing some notes for the Very Rev Paul's tribute. Virgin have kindly killed off my TV and broadband so not sure how I am going to get it to him if it doesn't come back soon - may have to go wandering around with the laptop until I can find a wireless network to play with :(
Very painful process and so much to say and so few words to express with. I keep thinking of extra things I should have included but this is what I have so far for him;
"Dad
Where do you start when asked to describe someone that you have known your entire life?
There may be things that I see in him, good, bad and possibly even ugly that others may never have seen and equally there are a host of things that I may not know and may never know. A million different memories, each one now jagged and painful to recount; long hours working with fibreglass and wood salvaged from the shoreline to build his beloved fishing boats or taking a simple blank fibreglass pole and carefully crafting a perfectly balanced fishing rod. The early starts and late finishes, digging for ragworm at Tipnor, collecting cockles and spent munitions, long days out fishing with the promise of a landing at Pewit island to cook sausages on a camping stove and explore – He was never as content than when sharing his love of the sea and especially our little part of it within the harbour.
Born and bred in Portchester Dad loved to travel and experience different cultures and cuisines but would never be far from his home and family with a constant stream of letters and surprise gifts to share his enthusiasm. Seashells, beetles and even a rotting shark jaw from Masirah, Roman scent bottles and coins from Cyprus, our post was never dull. He used to send home rolls of film to be developed along with letters and cassette tapes from Yemen and caused panic when we had posted the film canisters for processing and then sat down to listen to the tape only to hear an urgent message telling us that there was a gold necklace in one of them and not to send it !
Whenever I travelled on business trips, Dad would always be on the phone first thing in the morning, keen to hear what it was like, where I was going, what the food was like – ever the world traveller and wanting to hear the same sense of adventure in your voice as he experienced.
Dad was a good man; kind, fair and compassionate, his anger usually only reserved for sheer incompetence and restaurants with poor service. He would offer sage advice and allow you to follow your own path but would always be watching and there to pick up the pieces afterwards should you fail.
Always proud, quietly composed and honest. Never flamboyant or extravagant, a simple, hard-working gentleman who lived through his family and grew with each generation and each child’s, grandchild’s and great-grandchild’s new adventures and quietly set an understated standard that I can only dream of rising to.
I know you’re watching over us all now, feeling our pain and heartache and probably getting frustrated that you can’t help – Don’t worry, the pain will lessen and you can get on with your fishing – You’ll always be there in our hearts, our minds and in everything that we are.
We still drive past places such as Haslar Hospital, the Driving centre on Portsdown Hill, or the Unicorn Gate, apprentice training centre and proudly mention to the kids; “Grandad built that” and hopefully will for a long time to come."
So much more I want to add, I want to speak about the hard graft that is bait-digging, about meeting your first 6 foot long king rag, about the trepidation you have when plunging your hand into a slightly discoloured patch of mud hoping to find a big, juicy cockle and not a angry, pincer-wielding crab, about the serenity of standing in 1ft of water on Tipnor shinglebank waiting for the tide to go out so that we could go cockling and bait-digging which is a surreal experience as all around you is the deep water of Portsmouth Harbour with no visible land within reach - the closest I’ll ever get to walking on water! The holidays! Damn (sorry Rev.) the holidays, I forgot to mention numerous happy holidays in Devon, Dawlish, Cornwall, Wales, anywhere West of Portchester as we never, ever went East, except for one brief week in a caravan in Chichester, spent fishing for tiddlers in a lake - angling is definitely better except that sweetcorn and bread are easier to catch than ragworm! We once went fishing in 'the best salmon and trout river in Wales', with coracles on the river nearby and no fish in sight. Michael caught nothing and I caught a baby plaice about twice the size of a 50p piece ! Good times though and once again proving that angling in all forms is better :)
Anyway, broadband came back, email got sent and I waited for the postie to arrive with new shirts and suit for tomorrow - got to at least be smart for him. Suit jacket is too small and shirts are all too big - major failure and one that hits hard, so retreat to the bathroom for a quick sob away from Heather who already has twigged and is calling shops in Pompey to see what they have available - bless her, she is good. !! But that was a final straw for today, feel beaten and barely able to pick my feet up - another crushing blow. With Heather pushing me, we head off to the dry-cleaners with my old suit and beg them to have it ready for 09:00hrs tomorrow, then sneak in for a haircut - I am Mimi's 3rd customer today attending Dad's funeral tomorrow. Turns out her dad is ill as well and feel bad that they have had to endure a long, hospital illness - solemn haircut. :(
Out of there and Karen has been trying to reach me as I haven't put my card into the florists yet (The-Flower-Studio), so we head off for more soul-searching summaries. I'd quite like to quote from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and have a simple card with; "So long and thanks for all the fish" on it but I am sure someone will get upset somewhere and think it disrespectful, I know Dad's humour is probably closer to Prince Phillip's than Douglas Adams but I'm sure he'd appreciate it. Seriously think about standing outside of the shop and texting what I want to Heather, so she can write it but manage to blurt out enough words for her to understand and several attempts later we have a completed card. Nothing fancy, and probably too bland for some - never mind, I know what I want to say - maybe I should have put this blog's URL on it !!
Back home to find Jake hanging around like some poor, little latch-key kid 'coz he's forgotten his keys again, with Karen waiting to deliver a card in case I hadn't made it. Once inside it is back to answering emails and chatting about my main project with Brian, who is the poor soul that is picking up some of the slack that I have generated :(
Karen returned after a while with Mum to present me with a gold ingot on a chain that has been fashioned from the 'bloody great bit of brass' that Dad bought in Masirah and wore as a ring. Never owned such an expensive or sentimental piece of jewelry before!! I bought a bracelet with the money that Mum's Dad (Pampa) had left me as a permanent reminder so this is fitting as well. Gave Mum as much of a heartfelt thankyou as I could without losing it - not really good enough tbh, I should have tried harder but it really was a lovely idea and it means a great deal to me, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, more than words could ever say (well without us both getting into a state anyway!).
Mum called just as I sat down to eat to tell me that she had read my short diatribe about Dad and cried. It must be like poking an open wound with a salt'n'vinegar chipstick - I'm sorry, I don't mean to cause you or anyone any further pain :(
Final logistics for tomorrow are decided, Heather is given a lift round to Mum's and I fall asleep at my desk - situation normal.
No comments:
Post a Comment