Dear Beano

Dear Birthday Beano,

I am decoupaging my father in laws old trunk into a toy box for the girls covered in your fabulous comic. I bought random selection of 17 on eBay from 1981 1982 and 1983. They arrived in the post today, to my complete surprise there was one from the exact day I was born!!! Given you were only produced once a week on a Thursday, then the odds of me getting a Beano out of the 17 I received from the exact date of my birth were slim (I had no idea I was born on a Thursday or the Beano was issued on a Thursday) and to get this treat on today of all days made a very hard day (first anniversary of my fathers death) a special day. I don’t really believe in ghosts but I’m comforted by pretending it’s a sign from Dad.

Thankyou Birthday Beano. You shall occupy pride of place on my daughters’ new toy box.

Love LadyMinnieTheMinxCurd

(for security reasons not actual birthday Beano)

Dear Dad, Happy Christmas

Dear Dad,

First Christmas without you. Mum and bro seem to be having fun chez. Curds.

Mum keeps nicking all my Baileys that Bro bought me (since you can’t buy me my annual bottle anymore he has taken over the tradition). Bro is fine helping with dinner and girls adore him.

Girls are being poppets, Omble is not in the slightest bit interested in Christmas but likes the wrapping paper, and Oddler has turned into present demanding brat from hell but now they have run out she is very happy with her presents- I think LordC doing his usual trick of dragging presents out to make them last was winding her up (That and the sugar mouse mum gave her for breakfast!), just like you used to with me and bro! 🙂

Strange not to talk to you today. Miss you. Love you.
DaughterCurd

Dear Dad- it’s been 6months

Dear Dad,

It’s 6months today since you died so suddenly when Omble was only three weeks old.

I have so much I want to say to you, so much you need to catch up on so I thought I would write to you a bit of an update about what has gone on in the last 6months. I really miss phoning every few days to update on my news and hear yours.

Firstly I know you would be massively proud of a new role that I recently took on which is massive and high profile for my field which is awesome and scary at same time, I hope I can do you and the role proud.  Oh and you will pleased to hear I have a new job, I start next month and I can’t wait to get back into it. It’s only a day a week initially but they are desperate for me to work more than that but I want to stay at home with the kids and carry on with my freelance so this seems the right balance for now.   They are also going to let me do my masters dissertation project with them so the masters should get finished this year too. I know how proud of me you were for me starting it, and although I wasn’t sure I whether I was going to take it past the PgDip I have already I have decided I want to for you. For your memory.

Also I have had two articles published recently and I am writing a third. All in national publications two of them really well known, one pretty obscure. I am loving this getting paid to write lark and I am so pleased it is thanks to blogging and twitter that I am getting paid to do something I love that I can fit around the kids. I’m hoping for a few more gigs like that and I know you would be so proud of that.  I am also getting increasingly angry and activisty which is thanks to you and mum starting me out on the miners strikes.

The kids are doing brilliantly- Oddler’s language is superb for her age and nursery are always commenting how advanced she is for her age which puts to bed the worries about her start in life. She is completely toilet trained now including at night and in the end it took days not the weeks I was expecting. She does have a stroppy streak too her and mum says she is identical to how I was as a toddler- so just imagine me at that age and you will see your granddaughter.

Omble is now in a lovely little routine and I am pleased to report by some miracle she is pretty much sleeping through the night though last night she didn’t (I will write about that tomorrow). She is eating plenty and smiling and laughing at us lots. She says mama and dada and baba but not at anyone in particular she just babbles. She isn’t rolling or sitting yet but that’s mainly because after you died I didn’t put her down for a week and after that she turned into velcro baby and wouldn’t be put down so hasn’t spent much time on a mat to earn how to do these things, but at least this time around we have no worries about possible brain damage so I am just going with the flow much more. She utterly adores her big sister and the two of them are starting to play a bit together which is really lovely to see. I now know how hard you must have found it parenting me and Bro, Omble often accidentally kicks etc which upsets Oddler and I have to try and deal with it so Oddler doesn’t feel hard done by, it is such a tricky balance, and I get now why I thought my younger bro got away with so much- I don’t think he did really- just two different kids.

LordCurd is doing great, he is wonderful and amazing as ever and has been such incredible support to me and the girls these last few months. I do try and cherish him like you always told me too but I know I could always do more and I promise I will. He is very busy at work at the moment so I am trying to cook more and do more around the house. We just had a massive sort out of upstairs so now my study is in our bedroom, Oddler’s bedroom is now the former study/spare room and Omble is now in the nursery. I think we may look into that loft conversion we spoke about at some point otherwise we will grow out of this house but mum and bro are looking at the possibility of moving into it instead. Will be amazing to have them live here instead of 3 hours away. Oh and we had the garden landscaped by Olly- he did an utterly amazing job, you would be very impressed. I know how much you liked him and you will be pleased to know we are giving him all your tools if he can use them. Would be nice for them to get used up as part of your DIY legacy.

Oh and I think I have chosen a new car that you and mum were helping us out with now we need a bigger one since we are a family of four. I know you were going to sort it for me, being a dadlike thing you wanted to do for me, I am quite pleased I am sorting it myself for the first time ever, feels terribly grown up, although I am a bit scared about the automatic parking brake button the cars I want have, so I am still trying to find a better alternative. Its a toss up between a C4 Picasso or a Renault Grande Scenic. What do you think? I know you didn’t approve of the Citroen but don’t think we discussed the Scenic which I rather like. In fact I think it is currently likely to be the scenic unless I find something better. Need to sort it soon as we are giving my car to LordCurd’s sister to help her out.

Hmmm what else has happened in the last 6months, mum has done lots of work on the house, uPVC windows, new roof and the like, it needed to be done and I know how you wanted to do it but hadn’t quite got round to it (in 10 years!) it’s all very strange and not sure how you would feel about it so maybe I should shh now. She wants to be warm and comfortable in the house for the last few years before she moves here. Bro has also been much much better since you left us, he did have a bit of a wobble and we were worried but he is back to doing well again, and I am attending a siblings support group which is massively helping me to prepare to ultimately take on his care one day.

I guess alls left for me to talk about is how much I miss you. It’s funny since I was a child I spent so many years worrying what I would do when one of my parents died, I even used to cry myself to sleep with the thought of it, but now it has actually happened it actually hasn’t been as awful as I thought it was going to be. Don’t get me wrong I miss you dreadfully and I think about you often and sometimes I am blind-sided by random things like cups of tea  and the grief wells up in me like a geyser, but most of the time I am too busy to wallow or grieve thanks to work, the family, life, and you were right “life is for the living”.  I do take time out to have a cry now and again.  I will always miss you and never forget you, but we had 30 fairly brilliant years of you being my dad, I wish there had been many more but that’s the way it goes sometimes.  The girls will always know what a great man their grandpa was.

I love you.

I miss you.

DaughterCurd

xxx

 

Dear Laughing Dad in my Dream

Dear Laughing Dad in my Dream,

This morning while dozing I had a very vivid dream of me, you, mum and bro, all sat around the kitchen table laughing hysterically.  We were laughing so hard, tears were pouring down our faces, something had really tickled us.  I remember thinking part of what was so funny was that you were actually alive, you had tricked us, you weren’t dead after all,  that’s not a very nice trick to play, but then you could have quite a cruel sense of humour like that.  Anyhow it was lovely to see you again, and share such a happy joyous moment. When I woke, I was so sad that it wasn’t actually true and you weren’t playing a trick on us, you actually are gone.

But I like that you are still about in my dreams,  like GhostDad, like today’s  Laughing Dad. It’s good to see you, I miss you such a lot. You maybe gone but you are never forgotten.

Lots of love

DaughterCurd

Me and My Dad, dreaming away.

Dear Strange Baby

Dear Strange Baby,

Who are you? Who do you belong too? Where are you? Who’s house is that? Why is my dad holding you? He was normally a bit scared of holding babies since he dropped me on my head as one- explains a lot! Why does he have a photo of him holding you?
We’d love to know. You intrigue us.
Love LadyProbablyDefinitelyHopefullyNotYourHalfSisterCurd

Dear Cup Of Tea

Dear Cup of Tea,

Just made one of you and was reminiscing over my dad’s insistence for “one teabag two cups” which is very very different from two girls one cup, DON’T GOOGLE.

Making my mum and dad a cup of tea in the morning it always had to be one teabag per two cups of tea. My dad liked his tea weaker than my mum did, so her cup got the teabag first. It became a family tradition that whenever I was home for a weekend I would make them their “one teabag two cups” cuppas (and I always had a hot choc) and I would perch on the end of the bed drinking them and catching up. It was lovely.

If my dad came to stay with me, he would insist on the “one teabag two cups” rule even though we are a “one tea bag per cup” household. He thought we were so decadent and wasteful. He may have had a point. I have worked out the average cost of a teabag is 2p.  If you consider my mum and dad probably had five “one teabag two cups” everyday during the course of their 34year marriage then that is £1241 compared to £2482 if they hadn’t done that. Mega savings!

If no-one else wanted a cup of tea when my dad did, he would put the teabag somewhere safe for later, usually in another clean cup by the kettle, and would go mad if anyone cleared it away thinking it was just mess.   As he kept losing saved teabags in this manner he then took to making himself two cups of tea at a time and microwaving the cold second when he next fancied a cuppa.  Now microwaved tea is just minging so I draw the line at enacting the “one teabag two cups” rule if just me having a cup of tea but I actually think it could be quite sweet (and penny pinching money saving) if I adopted the “One teabag two cups” rule for me and LordCurd. It would be really romantic.  I love him enough to share my teabag with him. Or something.

It would be a nice way to remember my Dad and his love of tea, my mum and being a miser anyhow!

So dear Cup of Tea, I must ask you this,  how many teabags (or fractions thereof) do you like in an optimum cup of you?

Lot’s of Love

LadyLookAfterThePenniesAndThePoundsWillLookAfterThemselvesCurd

The white is the reflection of the sky and the clouds, in my cup. Poetic.

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

It would have been your birthday today, you would have been 78. You also died 11 weeks ago tomorrow. I partly started this blog to help me deal with the grief at losing you and so far you have been the focus of several letters:

• Dear International Spy dad
• Dear Ghost Dad
• Dear Tramp in the Street
• Dear Grief
• You even had me planning my own Funeral.

This is the letter I meant to write to you all my life, the one that I never did because we always thought we had more time together, then it was the one I wanted to write to you to go into your coffin, but again there was no time. I regret that.

I’m so so sad that the day you died was the day you were supposed to be staying and helping me with Omble and Oddler as it was LordCurd’s first day back at work and Omble was getting her tongue tie snipped. It would have been the first time you met her but I had cancelled the visit as we couldn’t cope with you and bro as houseguests as we were so sleep deprived and had found it a bit of a struggle with Mum staying the week before in our tiny house. I am so sad that you never got to meet Omble but I know you doted on her and showed everyone her pictures. I’m glad that I took her to meet you in the Chapel of Rest. It helps knowing that one time you were together in the same room even though when I saw you lying there I finally realised you were gone. You didn’t look sleeping as mum said- you looked very much dead. I don’t want to remember you like that but it still has been incredibly comforting that I brought Omble to you that day. I would have still been regretting and upset about it otherwise.

One of my earliest memories is of you meeting me at the door of yours and mums bedroom and saying I couldn’t go in because mummy was sleeping. She had just had my baby brother. You were a stay at home dad so you did all the school runs (although often forgot to pick us up as your car clock would often be set to french time since you were there so often!). You were a terrible cook though- sausage and tomato ketchup sandwiches in our lunchboxes. Boak, and your M&M pancakes which were half a cm thick! Oh dear!

I remember once being incredibly embarrassed because you came to pick us up dressed head to toe in pink. You had had a washing machine disaster and your white sunhat, shirt, jeans (white jeans dad- seriously- not something I ever remember seeing but you defo had pink trousers that day!?) were all pink and you were wearing your white wellies (which were white anyway as you had discovered operating theatre/slaughterhouse wellies to be cheaper than normal wellies and you loved a bargain). We were so embarrassed. You just laughed.

I also remember the stories you used to tell us, the Mars Bar Factory to keep us going on long walks (two Mars bars hidden in a hut at the end of the walk on the moor- still not sure how you got them there!); Esmeralda and Griselda the two witches on our holidays in France who used to write us letters in the font of the church; The magic door unlocking light up yoyo (we were locked out of our hotel room til you got me to use my magic yoyo and it worked!) ; The dragon lines (motorway crash barriers) that if we spoke or made a noise at all on the motorway the dragon would come and gobble us up! (Haha cunning- I may use that one myself). You made our childhood so magical and wonderful.

You could be a meanie and a grump sometimes with quite a cruel sense of humour. I remember sitting on the edge of a water bath in a field on holiday once and you sodding well chucked me in! Unfortunately you hadn’t realised it was full of stinging nettles and I still don’t think I have forgiven you! Mum was also livid at you. I think you felt really bad after, you could just be quite childish sometimes and not think about the consequences to your actions- Tsk! Oh and the time I saw a lame duck and wanted to take it to the vets but you wouldn’t let me and then kept making duck soup jokes all the way home- humph. I was a vegetarian for a whole 24 hours after that until I forgot when you brought me a sausage roll- how you laughed.

I never ever saw you cry, because you were always the strong silent type really, although I remember two occasions when mum told me you had, once when your mum died, and once when we thought I had cancer because of the lump in my bones which turned out to be a bone infection. I never saw those emotions but knowing from mum you had them made me feel closer to you.

You most surprised me when I was going through typical teenage struggles with sexual identity. You were the one who sat me down and told me “LadyCurd- no matter what you are I will always love you”, (meanwhile my ultra liberal mother was completely freaking out). This was the best and kindest thing you ever did for me, and I was so surprised because you just weren’t really someone to talk about stuff like that too. I loved you so much for saying that too me and making me feel accepted no matter what.

You supported me so much with my education and career, encouraged me and inspired me to succeed. You also would sometimes try and control some of my academic or other life choices by financial incentives but I got wise to that and ultimately we got to a point of muddling along without you trying to interfere too much, and I know you only did it because you cared and you wanted what was best for me. You did a lot for me and I relied on you so much (as did mum and bro) so you have left a massive massive hole now you have gone- we don’t just miss you terribly but we are not entirely sure how to sort the finances, or check the coolant on the car or sort the buildings insurance etc etc. & although I am a lot more independent than my mum I have realised that I am often too dependent on LordCurd and I want to fix that so I can be as savvy as you were about things. I know you were incredibly proud of me when I independently oversaw our house renovations and were impressed with everything I had done and I think I probably have got the property bug from you so you never know I may start my own monopoly game one day. Hurrah.

I know I could wind you up with going on about my pregnancy worries and niggles (but likewise you drove me mad when I hadn’t felt Omble move in 24hours and you were staying and were going to take me to hospital but then decided to do the washing up first so LordCurd wouldn’t find the house a mess- LordCurd being slightly more worried about the baby than the washing up! ARGH!) but I also know how impressed you were with how I dealt with the immediate aftermath of Oddler being in intensive care and suspected brain damaged. I think you were amazed how calm and positive I was considering and although I had a wobble with PTSD afterwards we ultimately got through it and I know you were proud of me during that horrible time.

We used to tease you, call you Del Boy, Compo, Steptoe, Pa Larkin, Greengrass but most of all we called you Fantastic Mr Fox. It’s true you were. The best thing about you dad was that no-matter what you were always there for me, I could always count on you in a crisis. When I phoned you in tears one day from university you would have been there the next day (5hour drive) but ultimately you didn’t need to. You would do anything for anyone and we miss you so so much. You were incredibly strong throughout Bro’s long ongoing fight with schizophrenia, caring for him, holding mum together as well as shielding me from the worst of it (although I didn’t want to be shielded)

I said the other day of all my letters I have written in this blog there are only three people I want to write back. James McAvoy, Dr Who ( 😉 ) and you. But most of all you. Sadly none of you will ever write back. I miss you everyday and think of you always. Thankyou for being my dad, it’s funny I once said to mum once you’d wound me up once too often “I wish dad wasn’t my dad” and mum just said “don’t be daft if he wasn’t you wouldn’t be you”. It’s true. Thankyou for making me me.

Happy Birthday Dad

I love you.

LadySnotty&SobbingCurd.

P.S Not sure I believe in Heaven but it is comforting to think of you about somewhere with other people we’ve lost. Hope you have been reunited with your parents (Grandpa who I never got to meet) and brothers (Simon who died as a baby and Peter who died a few years ago), I hope you have seen Mum’s parents and Grandma isn’t the shell she was when she died and that Grandpa is still as wonderful as he ever was. I hope you are hanging out with Joe, your best friend and the man who was practically another grandpa to us growing up. I even kind of hope the babies that never made it get to meet you.

P.P.S In my phone the house phone is down as Mum and Dad- makes me sad whenever Mum rings but until now I haven’t been able to change it. Especially as you probably rang me more than her! I think I need to change it today. Doesn’t mean I am forgetting just that I am healing. Anyhow I bet wherever you are you have found the cheapest phone and internet deal and would phone if you could. In fact I hope you have the internet where you are so you can read this. Then again you would probably groan at my “attention seeking” blog, you being quite a private person, so maybe not! I’ll post it to you 🙂 the address is DadCurd, The Ether, SomewhereEverywhere, Always in my Heart. Right?

Dear Adults Who Turn Into Stroppy Teenagers When Visiting Their Parents.

Dear Adults Who Turn Into Stroppy Teenagers When Visiting Their Parents,

I’m writing to tell you to cherish your strops and don’t feel guilty for them. Enjoy them for they are an aspect of your relationship with your parents that harks back to a time when they were the giants in your life and you were still vulnerably learning about life and the world, and then reflect how far you have come.

I left home at 18, I haven’t lived at home for 12 years, yet no matter what, within an hour of returning home for a weekend visit you could utterly guarantee I would be reduced to a snarling stroppy teenager as my parents invariably started to wind me up.  I was an adult yet only they could reduce me to a grunting, fed up, sarky, ungrateful strophead.  I wasn’t proud of this but I acknowledged that such is invariably the way between parents and children.  When I had kids of my own, the Act eased off a bit as we could focus on them and not whether or not I had eaten my vegetables I probably hadn’t.

Now my dad has died, the Teenage Strop Act has probably gone for good.  When I go home now- I am the adult and now in some ways my mum is the child who needs looking after.  This makes me sad.  My dad used to wind me up something chronic but the fact he is never going to wind me up again, means that finally the teenager within me has grown up for good.

Cherish your inner teenager- you’ll miss him/her when they are gone.

Lots of monosyllabic love

LadyKevinTheTeenagerNoMoreCurd

Dear Grief

Dear Grief,

Tonight while snuggling in bed with Lord Curd I let you wash over me, huge fat tears were rolling off my face and soaking into my pillow with tiny barely audible plops. I managed to avoid the inevitable associated sniffing that usually gives a silent cry away, as just for that moment I needed to let you out whilst safe in LordCurd’s arms but not have him comfort me and make me feel better and make everything be okay again. Just for that moment I wanted to grieve. Grieve for my dad, the giant in my life for so long, the person who knew the answer to everything, and could turn his hand to anything. Grieve for the man who made me and shaped me, and was so proud of the woman I have become.

It’s hard because often feel my grief is like a pressure cooker, at the minute I can’t afford to let it all out in a big explosion because I have to be strong, I have to look after Oddler with the Chicken pox, I have to be attached to velcro baby Omble virtually all the time, I have to get through this, & so I release my grief steam gently in silent secret cries when no-one is watching and no-one is listening.

People have stopped asking how I’m feeling about my dad’s death now, it’s been nine weeks on Tuesday, has Life moved on? Or has Life got in the way? People don’t want to ask to make me upset I get that, and sometimes it’s so busy I don’t even have time to think let alone to grieve, and that’s okay, but sometimes I feel guilty that I haven’t grieved enough or cried enough or remembered to think about my dad enough.

But again it’s okay. I am dealing with my grief in the only way I know how, by trickling it out and not feeling guilty for how I feel. Accepting the tears when they come and trying not to stifle them. And by writing, the wonders of writing, the tears came again writing this letter too you, and that’s good.

I feel better now. I will get through this I know. My dad taught me how to be strong. We’ll all be okay.

Yours for the forseeable

LadyCurd

Dear Funeral

Dear Funeral,

I have been thinking alot about you lately and I have decided to embrace my inner Funeralzilla and plan you here.

Please don’t worry I have absolutely NO intention of shuffling off my mortal coil anytime soon but since my dad’s sudden death I think it is best to have it all planned.

Firstly- coffin- I want a cardboard coffin like my dad had- plain white. But I want anyone who wants to to be able to write messages, stick pictures on it and decorate it for me (don’t worry my body doesn’t need to be inside at the time). I want a seriously groovy personalised coffin to send me off with mementos from all my family and friends. Oh and this is a bit Miss Havisham sounding of me but can I be cremated in my wedding dress? It was the happiest day of my life and I ain’t never gonna wear the bugger again so I rather like the idea of getting one last wear out of it, especially as it was suitably gothic….

My middle name means white lady of the sea- so I had thought of a sea burial but I don’t like fish so a cremation is fine (ideally in a crematorium that is as eco as possible- I rather like the idea of my body heating a swimming pool or something.)

On my first ever date with Lord Curd we discussed favourite songs and both said Portishead: Roads was a fave and that we wanted it playing at our funerals- it was at that very moment in a little Indian restaurant in Cambridge I knew me&him were just meant to be!

(especially like the lyric “from this moment, how can it feel this wrong”- because it’ll be dead wrong from then on what with me being dead and all obviously!)

In terms of readings I want:

If I should die before the rest of you
If I should die before the rest of you
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone
Nor, when I’m gone, speak in a Sunday voice,
But be the usual selves that I have known.
Weep if you must
Parting is hell.
But life goes on.
So sing as well.
Joyce Grenfell

(I played Joyce Grenfell doing her school teacher bit in my school play- it was fecking ace!)

and

What is dying?

I am standing upon that foreshore, a ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength and I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says, “there! she’s gone!”
“Gone where?” “Gone from my sight, that’s all”, she is just as large in mast and spar and hull as ever she was when she left my side; just as able to bear her load of living freight to the place of her destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at that moment when someone at my side says, “there! she’s gone!” there are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, “here she comes!”
And that is dying.

Bishop Brent*

*This poem or a very similar one is often attributed to Victor Hugo or Henry Van Dyke

(I love the sea and being the prow of a ship was an ambition of mine as a kid – I was a weird kid!)

And then I guess a song or reading or poem that LordCurd and the girls pick for me to send me off- but if it is Brand New Heavies: Midnight at the Oasis – I will haunt you because that is my most hated hated tune ever!

I don’t want flowers but any donations should go to Amnesty (and if you felt like setting up some sexually healthy award type thing in my memory I would totally totally love that!). I would love for LordCurd to chuck a single red rose with a giant thunk onto the coffin like he did at his Nana’s funeral with some giant flower or other. We all giggled inappropriately and it was ace.

At the wake – be happy, get pissed have fun, do the gothic two step, blow bubbles and eat cake. Those are THE RULES.

Finally I want my ashes scattered in Wells where H&I got married (feed the swans with them or something 😉 , and if you were really feeling flush- on the grounds of Vulamasango Primary School in KaNyamazane Nr Nelspruit South Africa as that is one place that changed my life forever (but I won’t haunt you if you can’t arrange this)

If I am dead and you are reading this as you plan – please know that I loved you and I am sorry not to be with you anymore but know that somewhere somehow I am watching over you, be it as a plastic bag

(which is something I saw outside my window the morning after I found out my best friend had killed herself and it stuck with me)

or as a butterfly struggling in a window full of condensation

(which is something I saw the morning of my Dad’s funeral and again it stuck with me)

All my love to you all forever and always

LadyDeadCurd

xxx