Monday, 19 June 2017
Any excuse to get my family to be creative #DadDirt
You know that you are a Great British Dad when...
... you try to get your family into getting out of your comfort zone.
I'm in the garden with my yellow pad and Long-Suffering Wife (LSW).
You know you've got pen down the back of your leg.
It's for the blog. I chickened out of taking a picture in the High Street.
You've spelt you're wrong.
I spelt "you" wrong as well.
Funny how the other one catches the eye.
I'm afraid people won't think it's intentional, even though there's a big U in there.
You could've spelt the too with one o.
Oh yeah. That would've been better. You know when you stop dead in the street because you just walked into something weird?
There was this hard-looking man, but he'd been stopped by this old lady so she can read the tattoo on the back of his leg. You know, some quote or poetry.
So he's posing, in his shorts, angling himself so that she can read him.
And I'm standing there. Staring at this.
Can't even remember what it said, cos I'm busy thinking "This is beautiful! This is art!"
When it's probably just bad eyesight and rubbish lettering.
But I'm looking at this -- and I want it to be a meaningful moment.
You know, two people being brought together by this... illegible leg poetry.
And he's getting to share what he's always wanted to share, what he's put on his leg to last forever.
And I'm thinking this is how Art spreads.
Because I'm writing this down on the back of my hand in Biro.
And I'm feeling really good about noticing this moment, because it's all happening outside the very place I've come to help my family be more creative.
So I'm walking to the back of the Pound Shop - to the stationery section. And now I'm panicking because I'm still holding this Biro and I don't want them to think that I'm stealing it.
Instead of putting it in my pocket, I put it down on the side openly and I manage to find these hard-backed books that me and my family can come together to fill - with ideas, and doodles and dreams and stories and hey.
It's just like that tattoo.
We can all fill the books in marker pen so it's indelible. Like the illegible poetry on the hard-looking man's leg.
And you can't tear the pages out of these hard-backed books.
My mind is racing at all the ways we can organise this - will we do it against the clock? Or one page at a time?
But then I get home. And I've got to clear the table. That's if I can get everyone else to the table.
All at once.
And there's probably a fight over who gets which colours.
And I can't even get myself to the table, let alone anyone else.
So I try and write it all down.
Staging a photo that I didn't have the guts to take.
By drawing all over myself.
I left my pen in the Pound Shop.
Daddy why do women like saying our names out loud? and 141-147 British Dad thoughts #DadDirt
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