I was walking the dogs round the cemetery early this morning and for some reason my late father came to mind. Specifically the time when I was in my late twenties and became very ill. I was looking after his pub whilst he holidayed in Florida when I began to feel very poorly. It turned out it was because my kidney’s were failing. I was admitted to hospital with a bp more than double the safe level and on the verge of a stroke. My dad asked family if I was on drugs. Like only that could explain it.
Him and my stepmother came to visit one day and my stepmother made sure everyone on the ward heard how she thought the Leeds General Infirmary was like an old workhouse. This workhouse had just saved my life but that was by the by. They came to visit on the way to some airport or other and couldn’t get out fast enough. He didn’t give a shit. it was all about how things looked.
The first time he saw my sister after several years he said to me ”has she always had that awful gap between her teeth?’.
I should have told him to fuck off then. To this day I regret not letting him hear some good old home truths. I’d tell him now oh fucking yes..
