Belt and Braces

My younger brother Jeff, home from Ireland, invited my sister Sally, our Dad and myself out to lunch to celebrate his 50th Birthday. We all met up at Dad's house on Sunday (for Sally and I Dad's on Sunday is the norm), Jeff had flown in from Ireland that morning. Things were a little tense on my arrival but Jeff and Sally were doing their best to keep things light.

Dad is 93 this year, he was feeling a little under the weather as described the reasons for this as being he had 'over done it' meaning he had cut the grass and washed the kitchen floor over the course of the week - this on top of his daily routine is quite a lot for him. He was obviously preparing for Jeff's visit.

What you need to understand about my dad is that in his younger years he was a strong, hard working man. He never let anything get in his way of work. He was and still is a strong patriarch taking his fatherly duties a lot more serious than most. In reality that meant that we kids (five of us) knew when to keep out of his way and if we didn't we would have to put up with the consequence. It was often hard to tell whether this was out of a deep sense of love for us or something a lot more brutal. I think we have all learned that it was the former - hind sight is a wonderful thing.

These days dad still gives out his pearls of wisdom wrapped up in a lot of vitriol. We all accept it as just dad's way and put it down to the particularly sad and hard life that he lived. His father, whom he was very close to, died a young man leaving my grandmother to cope with two children, a greengrocers store and a lot of money owing to them because everything was bought on 'tick'. The money was never recovered and the ensuing years were tough on all of them. My dad's sister was brought up by her grandmother and my dad left to his own devices with little food and a sense of responsibility for his mother.

He was very resourceful in the ways that he tried to earn a few pennies to add to the family purse. My grandmother, through fate rather than design, worked long hours leaving little time or energy to show her son any emotional support or comfort. Dad was supposed to know by osmosis that the daily effort his mother put in to getting food on the table and a roof over their heads was her way of showing love. So without any demonstrative model of how to be a loving and supportive parent my father never learned how to be emotionally supportive. I think too he felt afraid to give and receive love - perhaps fearful that he would loose it through some act of fate - as he had lost his father.

So here we are assembled at dad's house for the birthday celebration. Dad's hand had been painful during the night and he had not slept well because of it. Sally had dispensed some pain relieving cream and advice on how to continue to treat the hand and wrist. This involving a wrist strap and continued use of the cream. Dad had obviously asked Sally to get him some Lloyd's cream - don't ask! I've never heard of it. However, Sally, being more familiar with the Ibuleve variety bought this and so as not to put her head in the lion's mouth also managed to buy the Lloyd's cream. Where she found this I can't imagine. The Chemist explained that the two cream's should not be used together - this advice duly passed on to dad.

First up dad rubs the Ibuleve cream into the affected area and then proceeds to wash his hands! Telling Sally what he has done solicits the comment "that was clever!" Dad then starts to get agitated about the fact that he is not wearing his braces. He is wearing a robust leather belt, which I must add he has hand sewn a gusset in so that it will go around his ample girth. He feels uncomfortable without his braces and proceeds to mount the stairs to fetch them. We have all noticed that the jerkin he is wearing has a few spills down the front of it and whilst dad is going upstairs Sally suggests gently that he change it. This creates immediate reaction from Jeff who is completely not bothered by appearance (his own or anyone else's), he comes from "you can't tell a book by it's cover" school of thought. Dad retorts to Sally that his other jumper needs washing - he is obviously in denial about the stock of pristine jumpers that he has stashed away in his wardrobe. He comes from the "it has to worn out and threadbare before its comfortable" and "I don't want people knowing I've got money by showing off new clothes" school of thought. He takes great pride in telling us that he buys his clothes in Oxfam - not the least bit aware of how we might feel about the fact that every Christmas and birthday over the years we have purchased many a jumper, jerkin, fleece and sweatshirt.

Dad returns staunchly refusing a change of clothes with braces in hand. He appears to be a bit wobbly on his feet and fazed. He does not hear the comments being made to him by Sally or myself - Sally explains that he is loosing his hearing! Sally is really upset with him for 'over doing it' and ignoring the fact that both she and Jeff are there to help and negate the need for this exertion of energy. Dad appears almost pathetic at this moment, it knocks me back as I recall how he used to be. Dad asks for help with the braces and Jeff leaps to his aid. This is such a poignant moment, watching and listening to my brother help. Jeff sets about the job in hand with such sympathetic care, talking to dad all the while in a supportive and jolly way, geeing him up whilst being duly careful and kind. I wish I could have bottled that moment because it was full of such tenderness between to men who are usually positioning up to each other.

The celebration meal is completed with the usual difficulties of taking an elderly parent abroad. Restaurants are not geared up for old folk. It didn't help that the young girls who waited on our table consistently got our order wrong. There was a moment when dad was asked if he wanted dessert when I thought we were all going to lose it. Dad didn't really want dessert, but instead of just saying so, said there was nothing on the menu that suited him. Sally asked if dad would like ice cream as "you like ice cream, don't you dad" "I don't like chocolate ice cream" dad retorts (this was the only flavour offered on the menu). Sally asks the waitress if there are any other flavours available, which there were. Dad then says that he would like Neapolitan, which was duly ordered. Jeff ordered panacotta and berries, Sally and I declined. Two vanilla ice creams arrived and sent back as this was not our order. Dad's ice cream arrives with a chocolate boule on top to which he refuses because he doesn't like chocolate. We duly remove the chocolate and dad manages to eat what is left after which he turned to me and explained he really didn't want it. Hey-ho. Dad starts to leave the table and proceeds to go for a walk about stating that he can't sit for too long. We hastily get the bill and leave. We try to jolly dad along a bit realising that for him this was not a great success. When asked if had enjoyed his meal he stated that he had had better. His big complaint being that the vegetables were under cooked. Its easy to forget that he has spent a life time of eating veg that had been cooked to pulp and now with very few teeth its actually quite difficult to enjoy them in any other way.

The good news is he was pleased with the fact that his trousers didn't desert him due to the fact that he was wearing his braces!