I’m not a great fan of Father’s Day because, as with many of our annual ‘celebrations’, it pretends to be one thing when in reality it is another – an over-hyped, artificial construct devised to enhance business profits. Or am I just a miserable git (don’t answer!)?
Firstborn and The Second One are aware of my views and, as they are happy to keep their bank balances intact, they humour me by not splashing out on me these days. But I must say that I was pleased by Firstborn’s non-pecuniary contribution to Father’s Day this year – a limerick. It must be in the genes!
Here is what she thinks of me:
Despite my views on Father’s Day itself, fatherhood is, of course, something worth celebrating as there is nothing quite like the joy of seeing your hard-earned ££££ disappear into the parenthood void that is the Bank of Mum and Dad.
Indeed, I remember once asking a colleague, then in her early thirties, how old she was when she stopped withdrawing cash from her particular branch. “I haven’t” was the reply. It seems, that in her case at least, Euripides was right: “To a father growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter“.
Hmmm! That gives me an idea…
A young lass whose dad always bought her The best things in life really ought ter Learn to behold To a father growing old, Nothing is dearer than a daughter!
As you get older there can be times when you realise that you have well and truly inherited some of your parents’ traits.
The most obvious example for me is that just like my dad, I get a bit wound up when travelling if the rest of the family aren’t packed and ready to leave at the appointed time. The words stressed and grumpy may even apply!
So it was all very interesting this week when Firstborn told me that she gets a bit stressed herself if the folk she is travelling with leave things to the last minute. Nevertheless, the disdain in her voice was a bit uncharitable when she then blurted out: “Oh my God – I’ve turned into you!“.
If we set off late then we knew The pressure would rise till you ‘blew’ And we’d all get the blame, But now I’m just the same. OH MY GOD, DAD! I’ve turned into you!
They say that languages are alive and constantly evolve, so here is my addition to the UK lexicon preceded by its root in standard UK English:
give one’s attention to a sound.
“evidently he was not listening“
Give too much of one’s attention to a mellifluous radio presenter.
“Evidently he lustened excessively to Kirsty Young”
Well, I did lusten excessively to Kirsty Young this morning, but that was solely to hear Bruce Springsteen on Desert Island Discs. And talking of ‘The Boss’, ’tis a little known fact that I once re-worked some of his lyrics in the days when I organised a series of get-togethers over coffee between colleagues at work – the SciOps Coffee Club – and advertised them with a series of posters.
One such poster was my take on the artwork for Springsteen’s pivotal ‘Born in the USA’ album that was transmogrified into ‘Baked in the MLA’. Literary licence allowed me to pretend that his song ‘Born to Run’ had actually debuted in that album as ‘Born to Bake’.
Here’s the original (modelled by Springsteen):
… and this was my take on it (modelled by ‘Britney’ Springsteen , aka Firstborn):
Postscript: this post was prepared on a smartphone. Bad choice. Its keyboard is not conducive to writing a lot of text and its capacity to include even mis-typed text into its dictionary of personalised ‘predictive’ text means that I shall now and forever think of Bruce Springsteen as Beery Sorungsteeb! Very Hitchkiker’s Guide …