Tag Archives: my dad

Father’s Day

If it wasn’t for my Dad I wouldn’t be here.

If it wasn’t for my Dad I wouldn’t have the sense of humour that I have.

If it wasn’t for my Dad I wouldn’t have my youthful good looks.

If it wasn’t for my Dad I wouldn’t have learnt to be the parent that I am.

If it wasn’t for my Dad I wouldn’t be me.

My Dad is 80 today.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Love, Tin.


Dad and Mum (and me)

Father and Son

My dad rang last night. We had a long conversation ranging from how to do the cryptic crossword to how crap our respective football teams are (I found I’d typed “carp” there instead of “crap” and was very tempted to leave it, my team stink like old fish).

He is planning quite seriously to move to Florida, so we discussed how that was going, and I mentioned that I have a friend in Louisiana (I mentioned it because I reckon the two states are quite close, Rose, apologies if they’re thousands of miles apart) who I’d first come in contact with when she asked me questions about pacemakers. Even as I said it I realised that I had left myself open to just one question, and he duly asked how a girl in Louisiana would know that I had a pacemaker.

I took a deep breath and told him I had a blog.

I told him quite a lot about it, about how I sometimes write about the heart op/pacemaker situation, sometimes about my family, and sometimes just creative stuff. I explained about how people use blognames, and how mine is Tinman, and why.

I’m glad I told him about it. I hope he comes looking, though I didn’t mention Worth Doing Badly so he may not find it. I think he’ll enjoy it, I know he’ll like the hopefully-funny stuff, since he gave me his sense of humour, and it’s the best gift any dad could ever have given anyone. I know he’ll be proud of me, and delighted that I am writing at all, since he knows I’ve always loved doing it.

But there is of course an elephant in the room, and the fact that I can see an elephant in my room at all hints at just what it is. When I mentioned the various topics that I write about I didn’t mention depression, or derealisation. I know he knows that I had a really bad time about nine years ago, but I’ve kept the stuff that’s happened more recently to myself, since I’ve you lot to whinge to, lucky readers.

So if he reads this he’ll discover that his first-born son, apple of his eye, heir to his throne (he’s leaving me his toilet) is mental.

This may not in fact surprise him. But he will back me and support me, as he did when I was in hospital and he came to visit every day, though he lives quite a distance away. In short, I’m glad I’ve told him, and I’m sorry I’ve waited so long. But as it happens this is my 600th post, and it would be a very nice place for him to start.

If you read this, Dad, you’re very welcome.

Ask Tin

My dad rang me yesterday.

“I know you’re at work, so I won’t keep you,” he said. “How does Kiri Te Kanawa spell her name?”

I told him (pretty much as in the sentence above, hope it’s right).

“Thanks,” he said. And hung up.

I’ve often spoken ashamedly here about how Amish I am when it comes to computers. Terms like Feedburner, pingbacks, RSS feeds and StumbleUpon It! (their exclamation mark, I wouldn’t have found it interesting enough to add one of my own) mean as much to me as, say, Hyperbaric Chamber, Photosynthesis Equation, or Please Read Instructions Before Use.

Now I’ve found out that my Ludditism is hereditary.

My dad has never heard of Google.