Normally at this time of year, I would have spent the last few weekends searching the web or scouring some out-of-the-way, obscure shop for the perfect gift, then trying to find a silly or beautiful card to go with it, wrapping it all as neatly as I could and taking it into the Post Office on my way to or from work. There was never much in the way of hints or suggestions, so the onus was very much on me to find something that I thought would be appreciated. It was often a frustrating task but usually very rewarding, especially when I got the “thank you” phone call that proved I’d chosen well.
This year there has been none of that, and I’ve really missed it. I’ve missed berating him for being so difficult to chose presents for; I’ve missed moaning about the fact that the usual fall-backs for Dad-presents were no good – no aftershave (he had a beard), no other toiletries (he only ever used Imperial Leather soap and a soupçon of Brylcreem), no socks (unless they were dark green), no ties (he had a whole rack full), no CDs (he had no ear for music), no expensive single malt (he seldom drank), no classic movie DVDs (he just wasn’t interested) and so on.
But most of all, I miss Dad.
Happy Birthday Dad xxx