For the love of dad

For the love of dad

My parents have found my blog.

They knew I wrote one, but it only came up in conversation recently when my mum said she had seen one of my Instagram photos. She is definitely not on Instagram, so I racked my brains to figure out how. Ding. Blog.

In said blog, I refer to my mum a couple of times, mainly to say that she’s always right. Because she pretty much is. Luckily I inherited that gene, right Olly?

But dad felt left out. He’s 100% not always right, bless him, so I couldn’t put otherwise. Instead, here are just a few reasons why my dad is, and has always been, a top bloke.

1. When I had detention in school, he would sign my forms for me and agree not to tell mum (sorry mum).

2. He watched almost every game of netball I played when I was younger – that’s a LOT of games – and cheered for me like a champion.

3. When I had a paper round aged 14, he would get up at the crack of dawn and drive me round all of the houses so I didn’t have to cycle. Mum did this for me sometimes, too. Are they legends or what?

4. He could never stay angry at me for long, even when I was really naughty. Like the time I poured yoghurt over my sister’s head, or carved a star into my bedroom wall with a compass (those really are tips of the iceberg).

5. When I decided it was a swell idea to run away from home, he came to find me in the dark. (Young = stupid.)

6. On holiday, he would sing a duet of Wet Wet Wet’s ‘Love is all Around’ with me at karaoke.

7. Once, after he had dropped me off at uni and was heading home, I called him to say there was a spider in my room and pleaded with him to come back and extract it. He did.

8. He calls me kiddo*.

9. He has a 12-string guitar in the loft that he can still play on demand and it’s awesome.

10. On the day I qualified as a Solicitor he told me he was the proudest dad in the world. I know I don’t practice law any more, but I hope he’s still proud.

*although he also once called me a turd.

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No faceplants please

Wakeboarding

I’ve always been one for anything sport, outdoors and water.  So wakeboarding is pretty much made for me.  I first gave it a go in Turkey on a Neilson holiday, which is where I met the love of my life (vom).  As it was new to me, and I had never snowboarded either, the instructors there told me to have a go at water-skiing first.  I told them where to stick that suggestion.

Once I was all strapped into the giant boots and dropped into the tepid waters, they had me try out standing up whilst holding a big metal pole which was fixed to the side of the boat (so you didn’t wobble about too much).  That seemed fairly straight forward, so it was then onto the rope.  It’s a bizarre feeling being stuck in the sea with your feet strapped to a massive board which floats, so you are sort of bobbing on your back.  I must have looked a bit like a dead ant.  Anyhow, as the boat begins to move the rope loses its slack and you have to hold on to the handle for dear life.  You bring your knees right up to your chest and use the force of the board against the water to ease yourself up.

Well that, my friends, is easier said than done.  Enter the faceplant.  Exactly as it sounds.  You plant your face right into that water.  BANG.  Do it more than once if you feel like it.  Some people get a rush from that stinging slap to the cheek (not me).  Luckily I got to grips with the ‘stand-up’ fairly quickly, and that’s where the fun really started!  There’s no feeling quite like being dragged behind a boat by a rope and surfing the wake.  Bliss.  Until either:

1) You have been going for so long that your legs start to ache to the point where you want to get off, but you can’t

2) You lose concentration for a split second and come hurtling back to reality with a faceplant that is strong enough to give you a headache

3) You attempt a jump over the wake and stupidly look down before landing (you guessed it – back to earth with a faceplant)

Despite the inevitable falls, I loved every ride and had such good intentions to do more of it when I got back to the UK.  That holiday was over two years ago, and how many times have I been wakeboarding since?  The grand total of ZERO.

THIS MAKES NO SENSE.  Why, when I find something I love, do I not do more of it?  This is a serious life problem which I intend to address.  To my delight, I heard a few months back that a wakeboarding park was to open in Cardiff Bay, but this is yet to emerge.  The latest news is that it will be open March 2015.

In the meantime, Penarth Waterski and Wakeboard Club may be the solution.  I can’t see much from the website but watch this space.  I’ll be getting my little size fives into those gigantic boots again soon!  And fingers crossed I elude the dreaded faceplant.