Father's Day heroism

We don’t make as much of a fuss about Father’s Day as we do about Mother’s Day.

Mainly because, unlike me, Nigel is not willing to sulk or throw full-scale tantrums.  He also fails to start signalling Father’s Day six weeks in advance as I do for Mother’s Day.  And the little hints about an outing are altogether absent.

What an amateur!  It’s almost like he expects somebody else to arrange it all for him.

This Father’s Day, Carenza organised a gift from all the offspring – an ‘oscillating hoe’ for the garden.  It took longer to unwrap it than it did to weed the entire veg patch with it.  What a find!  My garden gnomes looked on, hiding their admiration only with difficulty.

Pascoe sent one of his very creative cards (see below) this time made from an apple.

But on Father’s Day itself, Pascoe was in Edinburgh and Carenza in Cornwall, so it was on Perran’s shoulders that the task of celebrating fell.

He arrived early as we were coming back from church.  But when we hugged him, he winced.  I made us a pot of coffee and asked Perran for his news, but he wasn’t quite himself. 

He had been vaccinated only the day before, had a very sore arm and was under the weather.

However, he brightened our Sunday for several hours, joining us for lunch and recounting his and Carenza’s recent flat move.  Eventually we packed him off home to recuperate.

But he is definitely our Father’s Day hero.