We're off to London in the morning. My dad died last year and it's his birthday on Thursday. We're gonna get together with my mother and sister and be pious. It's odd how my dad has changed for me since he died. We weren't close. We didn't have much in common. But now I see him whole. He's not just the frail old gent he became, he's a child and a boy and a young adult and so on all the way through the seven ages. With the actual man no longer there to distract me, I see what I think of as his essence. And he's a rather puckish, mischievous figure.
Have I fictionalised him? Probably. But I like him this way.
Minutes after he died the radio alarm clock went off for no reason, followed shortly by the house alarm. And the last time we visited my mother, there was a mysterious leak in the kitchen that kept us in the house waiting for the plumber instead of going out as planned. The plumber could find nothing wrong and the trouble hasn't recurred. Ailz and I reckon my dad wanted us to hang out with him rather than down the pub. See what I mean?- mischievous.