I know that Father’s Day was last weekend, but I was, er, too busy celebrating to write this then!
My dad. Oh where do I begin? We are so alike in many ways, yet so different. When I was younger (pre-make up and tweezer days) people used to say that we were ‘biscuit impressions’ (old Chinese expression) of each other. We’re obsessive when we get stuck into something, like the finer things in life (although often on a beer budget) and believe that if something should be done, it should be done properly - the old fashioned way. Geez, I even have his crazy eyebrows (over-plucked, but perfectly pencilled in versions I would like to add). However, throughout my teenage years we did not quite see eye-to-eye. I’m sure everyone can relate to this – the teenage years are hard enough without a really uncool dad there to cramp your style. For a few years we didn’t really ‘get’ each other, but I was busy trying to grow into my new semi-adult self. It wasn’t until I hit my twenties that I realised that we were in fact, from the same biscuit mould.
(Dad and me - note my eyebrows will end up looking like his one day...)
Father’s Day is always a nightmare for me and my sister. What the frick do you get the man who already has everything? He literally has every piece of golf equipment going. Yes, even a Powerball (that he never uses). I was so close to buying him novelty covers for his clubs when I realised I’d run out of time…and money. So, a DIY present it was. My sister, being my baking side-kick, was nifty. She baked savoury muffins. Chorizo muffins. Mmmm. I, sticking to the food theme, made my dad a pasta picture a la my 5 year old self. The fact that I had no money for a real present had no bearing on this gift. None whatsoever. Plus, every parent loves a pasta picture right? Oh yes. Especially when it’s a portrait:
With an accompanying pasta card. (note I have blurred my age – I’m not encouraging futher internet stalking).
My dad’s reaction was kind of odd. I think he took the pictures a little too seriously! Apparently the portrait made him look too young (I didn’t have enough pasta for ALL of his wrinkles). Bless him, as always he was trying to be encouraging, almost as if he was trying to humour me – it’s this attitude of his that got me into art history in the first place. I can do whatever I want, be whatever I want, as long as a) I’m enjoying it and b) I can fund my own shoe habit. Let’s face it, if I was brought up in any other Chinese family I’d be an accountant/lawyer/doctor (of the medical sort) by now (god forbid). I’ll wait until the next recession before reconsidering my career options.
So this is a shout out to my dad and all the other dads out there who have to put up with crap from their daughters (from the ages of 13-20). You rock. Even if you are made out of pasta.