As its Yorkshire day (Just about) and I am a proud Yorkshire lass and the youngest daughter of a proud Yorkshire Man and not just any man he’s my guiding light and solid rock.
Always has always will be – I am so like him as the youngest of 6 I have many qualities and quirks not only from Mum and Dad but also from my older siblings, I also have Youngest Child Syndrome.
Never heard of it? Let me explain I really truly believe that everyone and I mean everyone is older than me. That was fine whilst I was still in my twenties but really? Still being surprised by peoples ages now I am a ‘certain age’. Remember Jeff on Casualty? He died sometime last year. (In the drama not in real life) and when it was his funeral they said he was 42.
42 He was 42!
I was in shock that he could be younger than me even though it was fictional. I may have even tweeted about the subject.
But back to Dad, methodical, organized and straight forward everything has a place and is put away, everything is useful and will come in “handy” one day. These are his positive traits and ones which I am sadly lacking, as I missed out on the timekeeping and organisational gene. I look at his cupboards, shelves and tiny boxes of organisation and lament the gene that got away.
One less human in the home and a very organised Dad results in less housework for me. I still go to see him almost every day but it is a bit more of a challenge keeping him occupied.
Mum was a shopper “let’s just nip there” fine by me as we generally just “popped” somewhere for lunch and before you know it the day had gone and it was time to pick up the kids.
Dads style is not to just nip anywhere.
Dads straight forward, hard working, methodical nature dictates there are two ways of getting things done.
His way and the other way. (for other read wrong) A positive of youngest child syndrome is that I generally do agree with my hero, however my patience has been wearing thin of late because I have inherited the my way gene.
That one didn’t miss me. Ask Mitch!
So far in the last week or so Dad has Shown me the right way to.
Put the liner in the Kitchen Bin.
It’s a bag – it goes in the bin. I have been doing it wrong in the 26 years since I left home. He has shown me this three times. I now have decided that I will not empty the kitchen bin unless he is asleep or not in the house.
We live in the same city, we have the same recycling regime but every single time I take something to the bin that is paper or plastic he tells me which receptacle it should go in.
Hang the washing on the line.
The washing I was failing so badly with was the bedding. It Is Square Dad It is Square! How can I cock that up?
A Square Hole.
It was for a rose bush. Dad had made a frame. I had the audacity to dig the hole without the frame restricting my leverage. I must confess when he came round the corner I slapped the frame down over the hole and pretended I had used it all along.
Trimming my Tomato plants.
Note I said My plants. I have taken lots of guidance from my dad on the growing of our produce. I know he likes to show me how to nurture my produce and I appreciated his guidance as I really don’t have a clue when it comes to growing things. But this year I have one plant that I am leaving as an experiment. It is growing as nature dictates. Dad is not impressed by my plans.
Mowing the lawn.
Dad has a beautiful garden and a powerful petrol mower. A couple of weeks ago our boy cut the grass for him. I could see Dads inner battle as boy sashayed across the lawn with gay abandon pretending to be revving a motor bike. The grass was cut but not in Dads regime. Bless Dad, he did well and restrained himself from telling our boy how to cut the grass he even got a fiver I believe.
I was not so lucky.
I got out the lawn mower and started her up. Apparently you can gas up a lawn mower. That went down well. I started on the outside edge, something I thought was logical. Well not in Dads world. Thankfully he stopped short of drawing a diagram but I was instructed which blade of grass would need cutting at what angle and degree and time in the proceedings of operation grass cut.
Let’s just say I was so glad that the engine was revving up a treat that day as I would have got done for my language. I’m not being mardy honestly.
But if I hear the words “Tha dunt wanna do it like that” much more…