Father

Day 27 - Start a Book: Currently ten books into my thirty book plan for the year. Have two on the go at the moment - Jostein Gaarder’s Sophie’s World and Zadie Smith’s On Beauty. Hopefully I manage to complete them by the end of next month. Day 28 - Write a Love Letter: Very much work in progress. I suspect this is one I will have come back to again and again. What is clear is that it wasn’t love at first sight by any account - I am far too rational for that - but over time I find a bond building, and increasing joy in the simple things. ...

Dear Dad, My earliest memories of us are of me perched on my small chair looking up to you whilst you swotted into the early hours of the night, huge coffee mugs making their procession down your throat with the regularity of clockwork. It must have been back in ‘85, as in my memories I see Gracie . there too, right in the middle of your PhD years back in Benin. ...

My father, very much like me, is not a great talker- the sum of our conversation over the course of the year is little more than fifteen minutes. In the main these - 3 minutes here, 2 there, and 5 there have mainly come about as intermissions, snuck in between typically lengthy conversations with my mother - if her constant probing and interrogating can count as conversations. When I wake up to find a couple of missed calls from him on my phone , a whatsapp message from my kid sister, and a BBM message from my brother - all relating to the fact that my father has been trying to get hold of me- it sets the alarm bells in my head off. After arriving from my weekend trip to the middle of nowhere (link) I ordered the largest, most decadent pizza I could from PapaJohns - with a barbecue chicken side- devoured it and promptly fell into my bed for sleep, which was how I ended up oblivious to the clamour for my attention. ...

On the 4th ring, someone answers the phone. The voice is distant, seemingly attenuated by all the miles of cabling and ether between me and the recipient. There is a certain sleepy quality to the voice too, as though I have woken them up from the depths of an afternoon nap. Its late afternoon in that part of the world, that time of day when the oppressive heat and the lack of activity on a Sunday afternoon combine to lull one into a dreamy haze. ...