This morning I woke up in the house I spent most of the 90s in. My parents home in Grendon, Northamptonshire is one of the most restful places on planet earth for me. I sleep fantastically every time I visit (there's probably something subconscious about being home, safe and sound, coupled with black out blinds in bedrooms and the reality that their sleepy little village offers little in the way of noise pollution). It's a wonderful blessing when you're crashing after a rather long and hot day of driving the M25 and playing at a wedding with The DeLoreans. However it wasn't the peace and quiet or even the shorter journey to my parents place than to Chi that brought us to Grendon last night... as I woke up this morning I wasn't just grateful for rest but for my Dad...
Today is my father's 57th Birthday and all of his children made it home with presents in hand to sample the masterpiece that is Mum's fry up and to celebrate. Lisa, Adam and I are very blessed to have parents who love each other and love us deeply. I know I owe them a great deal. My Dad is an inspiration to me. In the years to come I hope I can be half the parent to my children that he has been to us. I have never doubted his love, I am often in awe of the strength of his conviction and integrity, and I am very proud of him. As we talked and laughed and ate around the dining table this brunch-time I wished I could have stayed much, much longer. (No-one told me that age and responsibility brings busyness.) I need to get better at making time when there's no occasion or agenda to go and hang out. There's little better than a bear hug from Dad or a good natter with Mum over a cup of tea. As Dad enters his 58th year I shall have to make an effort... xc