Roughly a month ago I wrote a post in appreciation of my dear Mama and all she does and is. Today it is my dear Papa's turn. Funnily enough, both of these posts have been preceded by a visit to the Royal Court, a brilliant play...and a broken chair. I think there's something up with the planets. Last night, Mama, Jojo and I had tickets for Adler and Gibb at the Royal Court, and I had texted Papa to say how excited I was about going to the theatre with a working chair. When we arrived, however, I was coming down the ramp and my chair not only cut out but then wouldn't turn on. It was completely dead. Obviously there was nothing we could do at this point, so Mama pushed me in. We happened to meet one of my friends from Warwick, Lily, in the foyer so the focus could now shift completely onto the play and the excitement of bumping into her. Yay distraction! In fact the only reason I noticed my chair was broken during the performance was that the theatre is slightly sloped, and I would normally tip myself back to compensate, but I couldn't. Otherwise I was too lost in the play. It was great and we had a lovely chat at the interval (including with the writer/director, who happened to be the father of one of Lily's best friends).
Once we left the theatre, of course, I was instantly reminded that I was stuck. I texted Papa again to tell him what had happened, in the hope that his electronic engineer brain might know what to do. He said immediately that he would come up in the morning (we had been planning to do Fathers' Day at some point during the week, because we know how busy places get at the weekend) and try and fix it.Which he did. And he fixed it. This rather made my present to him, of a vegetarian slow cooker recipe book, seem paltry – and it's the wrong way around. The daughter is meant to spoil the dad.
So, after having spent a lovely day with him, in order to express my gratitude for once again coming to the rescue, I thought I'd write this post. Thanks Papa – for all the pushing around that you have done, since I was little. For the walks in the woods, putting up with my overactive imagination whilst we were there. For carrying me down to the front of the cinema because back then I was too small to be able to see from one of the wheelchair spaces. For the hours in the library and the books we devoured. For the Sims, in all its incarnations. Mostly, though, thanks for the hugs and your healing hands, for the love and laughter.
And thanks for the pictures, of which the below is one of the earliest, taken in a photo booth in Woking.
I love you.
Once we left the theatre, of course, I was instantly reminded that I was stuck. I texted Papa again to tell him what had happened, in the hope that his electronic engineer brain might know what to do. He said immediately that he would come up in the morning (we had been planning to do Fathers' Day at some point during the week, because we know how busy places get at the weekend) and try and fix it.Which he did. And he fixed it. This rather made my present to him, of a vegetarian slow cooker recipe book, seem paltry – and it's the wrong way around. The daughter is meant to spoil the dad.
So, after having spent a lovely day with him, in order to express my gratitude for once again coming to the rescue, I thought I'd write this post. Thanks Papa – for all the pushing around that you have done, since I was little. For the walks in the woods, putting up with my overactive imagination whilst we were there. For carrying me down to the front of the cinema because back then I was too small to be able to see from one of the wheelchair spaces. For the hours in the library and the books we devoured. For the Sims, in all its incarnations. Mostly, though, thanks for the hugs and your healing hands, for the love and laughter.
And thanks for the pictures, of which the below is one of the earliest, taken in a photo booth in Woking.
I love you.
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