This year Raffy came home with two Father’s Day cards. I’m not sure if nursery are hinting at possible paternity issues? Although I think you’ll agree that such a joyous countenance could only be inherited.
Anyway, it’s just as well that Andrew got two cards, because he got nothing else this Father’s Day. We don’t really do it. Like we don’t really do Mother’s Day (mostly on the grounds, both incontrovertible yet also, I feel, somewhat ungenerous, that I’m not Andrew’s mother).
And the reason I don’t put up too much of a fight is because doing these occasions involves doing a restaurant. And weirdly, a room full of strangers in their best clothes don’t always appreciate being ram raided by a high-chair, driven by a surprisingly strong 17 month old. And we don’t really love having to pay £60 for an hour of apologising like mad and food bolted down so fast we couldn’t actually tell what it tasted of.
Also, whenever we’ve been out for one of the Occasions before, no one ever looks like they’re having that much fun. The average restaurant is not full of people having the time of their lives, but of mildly bored/irritated/bloated people who look like they’d rather be somewhere else.
So this is what Father’s Day dinner looked like for us.Vegetarian option on the right (at least it’s not flippin risotto).
I think it’s perhaps necessary to mention that I had planned a solidly middle class dinner of new potatoes, salmon and brocoli. But Andrew wanted oven chips. And it was Father’s Day. And there is something gloriously feminist about them. The implication being that you’re off doing something a damn sight less patriarchal than peeling spuds. Beyonce will probably do a song about them soon or something.
Sweetly, we didn’t wait for Andrew either. He was off feeding the animals; I don’t care how feminist they are, cold oven chips are minging.
Although before anyone feels sorry for him it’s worth pointing out that he spent yesterday afternoon building a bench and fence and drinking tea and champagne in our garden with our very dear friends as our kids played on the bouncy castle that he has just bought instead of a Porchse for his mid-life crisis. Today he got a lie-in until half past nine and pancakes for breakfast. He even got to do the dishes instead of the kid’s bath.
He hasn’t had an entire day off for over eight weeks. But right now he’s outside, in the rain, getting our garden ready for Bear’s party. He is a brilliant dad. A thoughtful dad. A dad who works incredibly hard at it and has given me two astonishing little boys. A dad who my dad is very glad chose his daughter.
Happy father’s day, we love you Andrew!
And we don’t need anything except oven chips to prove it.