Another Friday, I cannot believe how fast the weeks roll around. Seems a cliché thing to say, but it is true. I read somewhere that one of the reasons for the seeming rapidity of time passing as we get older is because when we are say 5 years old, a year is only one fifth of the time we have been alive, but add a nought to the age and a year is only a fiftieth. Whatever the reason it still goes past too quickly for my liking. I remember when time seemed to drag during term time but fly by too fast at weekends and holidays, at least that much hasn’t changed.
Today one of my granddaughters turned thirteen. I remember saying to my father when my oldest turned 21 that it made me feel old. And I can still hear him sayingback to me “Well how do you think it makes me feel?” Now that daughter is forty plus, oh how I would like to be able to tell him that. I’m sure the response from him would be the same.
He was a great Dad; some of you will know that my Mum died when I had not long turned fifteen. It was my Dad who helped me put my first colour rinse through mine and my girlfriend’s hair; it was called, very exoticall,y French Plum, and came in a small plastic bubble.
He also helped me to make my first dress. Well we did sewing at school, but basic stuff like baby doll pyjamas and gathered skirts. Anyway Dad figured that if he could read a plan he could read a dress pattern. And he did. I was very proud of that shift dress with its belt carriers at hip level. I wore it with wide shiny black belt and a white skivvy underneath.
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