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Glad I made it home for Father’s Day. Phoebe had drawn about 20 or so pictures for me of all different kinds. She may ration out her affection for me, but I think she maybe likes me after all. Or maybe she just loves art. Either way I am happy. She’s been a better artist than me for a few years now, but I am genuinely impressed with her skills. The Duckman/Homer Simpson me is something else.
Being a dad is the best. Though as always my captors have skilfully manipulated me to make me be thankful for my imprisonment.
Unsurprisingly I was blasted from two nights of gigging and all the driving - I do want to do a proper stand up tour again, but even if I have someone driving me I am worried about not having the stamina - but I still did a good deal of lifting and sweating as I carried on my mission to clear up the garden. I carried several heavy bags of garden cuttings up to the unofficial communal compost heap on my stone clearing field and tidied away more of our sawn up decking. I didn’t do the actual gardening, it should be pointed out, but Alan, who did, has done a terrific job and the small space we have looks brilliant now. Our house is pretty tidy too, though inevitably the lounge floor is strewn with lego again. It’d be nice to think we could keep the place at this level all the time, but experience tells me it will go as well as my attempts to give up chocolate.
We had a Father’s Day meal in Hitchin with Catie’s parents and brother, but I was flagging by then and my blocked ear in a noisy environment made it difficult to keep up with the conversation. My ears are being syringed on Tuesday, so hopefully I will return to the world then, though I like being in my own bubble.
At least I didn’t have to do any podcasts today, but two more tomorrow. So we’ll see if I am in a fitter state tomorrow. I pegged out as soon as I got to bed. Young people, enjoy your stamina. 20 years ago, at the start of this blog, I could gig every night, get drunk, kiss women and still be up the next morning (maybe afternoon) to do it all again. Now my recovery time (for everything) is somewhat more protracted.
But I didn’t wake up to a pile of drawings calling me Super dad then either. So maybe both states have their advantages.
