Friday, June 17, 2011


So, this Sunday (the 19th), in the UK, it's Father's Day.

I've always had a particularly uncomfortable relationship with this day. You see, my father was a cunt. The last time I saw him - when I was 16 years old - he was still a cunt. He died a cunt, too.

So, when I was young and all my schoolfriends would buy cards and presents for their fathers, I always felt mildly embarassed, and sometimes it even turned into a sensation of genuine discomfort. At best, I'd ignore Father's Day; at worst, I'd hate everyone who got to celebrate it while I was forced to pretend that it didn't bother me.

But now, all these years later, I love Father's Day. I have my own son. I'm not a cunt. My son loves me and I love him in return - so much, in fact, that I can almost understand what being a proper Dad means, and even lose, for the briefest of moments, my own lifelong bitterness at never having one.

Happy Father's Day.


Mark West said...

Powerful stuff, Gary - at least Charlie has a Dad he can be proud of and have fun with!

Gary Mc said...

Fun? There'll be none of that in my house. ;-)

Cate Gardner said...

Ha! Didn't see that second paragraph coming.

My father left the day before my 3rd birthday and said he'd see me the next day. Now that's serious cuntness. :D

Luca Veste said...

Great post.

Sharon Ring said...

Bollocks. Forgot to buy my dad a card. I do this every year. It's his birthday in early June and I have enough trouble remembering that.

Short and powerful blog post, Gary. Hope you have a lovely weekend.

Anonymous said...

Brutal and honest. Good on you.

Enjoy tomorrow.