Please accept my most sincere and humble apologies for the lateness of this post. Yes, I know I should have done it on Friday and I’m sorry that the anticlimax ruined your weekend. I will strive from this point onwards to rebuild your faith in me and know that I am deeply sorry for the pain I have caused you.
Okay – let’s move on.
Last week was an odd week and I am genuinely sorry that I didn’t post on Friday. If I am honest with you it was probably for the best. I am not very well and I was not in a good mood. Titles of posts I could think of included the following:
- “Urgh, Some People” – an in-depth look into all the people that annoy me on a regular basis (I’m looking at you meaty sniffers).
- “Careers that might be more exciting than my own” – what I would have to do to be a gymnast/fireman/international superstar (a lot FYI)
- “Why doesn’t everyone walk slower?” – an investigative piece on the correlation between the number of people having a lovely time at Christmas Markets and my need to get to the shops and back on my lunch hour
- “Why aren’t you at work?” – see (3) but with added anger.
And so you see, it would not have not have been the light-hearted romp that befits this little blog of mine. I warn you though, I may come back to these topic in the future, no promises.
My good mod has been somewhat lifted by the fact that I have had a lovely day off work, watching hours of TV and tidying my room so my mum doesn’t get angry. You know – typical 29 year old stuff. I also went for a posh dinner with my friends. I am very lucky to have such nice people in my life. You and I both know I’m a bitch but I won’t tell if you won’t.
After a delicious meal I ordered the first of what will be many more Hot Toddies – a delightful combination of whisky, hot water and lemon. Famed for its seemingly magical abilities to cure the common cold and favoured by blue haired women over 84. It was scrumptious. Then again, it isn’t surprising that I have the pallet of an old aged pensioner. I certainly have the love life of one (ba dum dum chhhh).
Another way my mood has been lifted is that my dad – the legend that is Mr John Lawrence Fox has a new job ! I have therefore decided to dedicate this blog to telling you all a little bit more about Fantastic Mr Fox.
(Please note this is in no way related to the fact that I did a blog on my mum a while back and he was a little bit jealous).
There can only be one place to start when discussing my dad, and that is his handbag.
My dad has a handbag.
It is something that my sister and I have grown up with so we don’t even notice it any more but I am aware that this will be an alien concept to some people.
It is quite simple really. We move to Lille, France when I was about 4. My dad had a job there and the whole family went with him. This was back in the days where French people didn’t like foreigners (I know – hard to imagine isn’t it?!) and so dad had to carry his papers, passport etc with him. The most convenient way to do this was with a bag. It isn’t uncommon in France and we thought nothing of it. Then, in around 1992 we moved back to England. There was no need for dad to continue with his bag but as he will say “Sophie, I’m a fashion leader, not a follower”. It is true – when it comes to fashion he is a shepherd not a sheep. Turns out not even sheep fall for the man-bag, but we love him anyway.
What does it look like? It’s kind of like a clutch bag. Oh god I’m making it worse. It is mainly filled with old lottery tickets and out of date European currency.
Accessories aside, my dad is the best dad ever. Not only am I saying this because he will read this and then maybe buy me something, but also because I genuinely mean it. He has lived in many exciting places – Stockholm, Saudi Arabia, Slough. You name it he’s lived there. If you want to know the secret to a happy marriage I would say it is living in different time zones for at least 44% of the time. That and having 2 TVs.
My dad is 59 years young – the same age as Denzel Washington and Bruce Willis. Not to do my dad a disservice but if you were suddenly caught up in a terrorist attack, he probably wouldn’t be able to land the plane safely or crawl through an air vent to rescue you. He would, however, be able to write a very stern complaint letter to the hotel company and get you at least 10% off your next stay at The Holiday Inn, Wythenshawe (not including breakfast).
Jokes aside, my dad is a genuine, caring, clever and funny man. Most of the time he is unintentionally funny. Highlights include when he came downstairs on holiday with one lens missing out of his sunglasses that he hadn’t noticed, or when he made an executive decision in a restaurant and proclaimed loudly “We’ll have the Pinot Grigio Red!“.
More recently when I told him I wanted to marry someone like Robert Downey Junior he said:
“Sophie, you are 29 and live with your parents. Aim lower”.
What’s not to like?
I am so happy and proud that the has got a job and hope that this post goes some way to compensate for the fact I didnt get him a birthday present. If not then I’d like to point out that my sister Lucy didn’t get him anything either and I don’t recall reading her dedicated blog post.
Dad, thank you for your pearls of wisdom and your fashion advice, and for being the best dad a girl could ask for.
Love you lots