Equal measures
There's a great deal of fun being a dad, and I hope my brother and I returned to my dad the fun he gave us. But there are moments of desperation two - the bits were we let him down when he didn't deserve it.

My old fella worked nights through much of my early years, and although we saw him a fair bit, we also had to creep around a lot so we didn't wake him. As a result, my mum tended to pastoral care most of time, which meant we got kicked out of the house to go and play in the fields.

Now my mum suffered from severe migraines, and on occasion she had to just stay in the dark, and my dad had to look after us. He'd said we could go out as long as we didn't mess ourselves up, as he had a fair bit to do while mum was ill.

Off me and r-kid trots into the fields. It's probably October time, because it's grey and wet, and the first field we had to cross had been sprayed in chicken shit. We avoid the shit best we can, and go to the low part of the field. R-kid discovers it's a bit boggy in the lower field, and gets his welly stuck in deep mud. I rescue his wellie, but couldn't rescue him from balancing with one socked foot in the air, before falling backwards in swamp and shit. I pull him out.

we have broke my dad's request of not getting full of shit. So I do what any older brother would do, I dip r-kid in some sort of well, that appeared to have clean water in it.

Bollox! It's not like a washing machine. 1) A well doesn't remove shit 2) He's pissed wet through 3) There is no spin dryer in this field.

My next idea is to both climb a tree and dangle there for a bit till the wind dries us. That was a shit idea too... after dangling for 10 minutes, his lips were going blue. So, we traipsed off home back through the chicken shit and into the kitchen. When we opened the door, my dad was making soup for tea, and he turned round and saw us.

His paternal brain could not figure out what to do with two shit caked, pissed through kids, and make dinner, and look after my sister who was only a wee bairn then.

He slowly put the spoon in the pan, turned round, slid down the side of the cupboard, cupped his head in his hands and cried. A real "I can't handle this sort of cry".

I can't remember what panned out after that, but that is the most upset I have ever seen him before or since.

Of course, it will never happen to me because my lad isn't allowed to play out because of all the Albanian paedophiles Tony Blair imported into Britain.
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Thu 25 Nov 2010, 21:22, Reply)