Everyone needs inspiration in life, whatever it is we’re doing, and we each find it in many differing ways. Some of us take inspiration from nature…a beautiful view, a towering mountain, for example. Others may get theirs from witnessing a selfless act of generosity or kindness. Others still may find inspiration from within, using their creativity and imaginations to get inspired to achieve whatever it is they are aspiring to.
I’d say that at one point or another I have utilized all of those methods to get inspired. But sometimes, while sitting here at my desk in Casa de Los Colibries, all it needs for me to stay motivated is to sneak a peek at this:
The chubby, white haired fella in these photos is Paddy, my dad. And his watch. That’s him on the ball, plodding through the mud at Walmer Road, Lowestoft.
Sadly, he died on January 2nd, 1995 aged just 52. His death, at an altogether too young age, was completely unnecessary; a **** of a doctor twice sent him away with ‘nothing more than a sore throat,’ and 2 weeks later he died because his infected throat had swollen so much he simply couldn’t breathe, thus, he suffocated to death. My dad was old school, and would only trouble the docs if it was serious. He knew it was. But the doctor was incompetent. Twice.
Tracheal Oedema, that’s what they called it.
A tragic f***ing disgrace, that’s what I call it.
Because I’ve been traveling all over the world so much, pretty much ever since that life changing event in ’95, I have very few of my dad’s belongings left. The house was sold. The car went. Mine and my brother’s inheritance was, shall we say, swiftly imbibed. There is a guitar he played badly, stored away back in England, and of course I have plenty of photos. More importantly, special memories.
He was a great, great man, though I didn’t ever appreciate him enough when I could have and should have. I’ve regretted that ever since, and it’s a burden I carry always. There will be more about this when I eventually finish my ongoing memoirs, to be published in approximately 2079.
The point is, that despite my atheist beliefs, one way or another I know that my dad is always with me, encouraging me, supporting me, and one quick glance at his watch, that I keep within sight at all times whilst I’m working, is all the inspiration I will ever need. My dad was never late. Nor shall I be.
Paddy was a man who got things done. Working class. No frills. Genuine. Honest. Success was measured in inducing smiles in others and providing for me and my younger brother as a single parent.
He was our King! And a King he always will be.
Thanks for the inspiration, dad. I hope me and Ian make you proud.