Yesterday was Father’s Day, and me being the worst daughter in the world didn’t buy my Dad a card or any presents. Now don’t think this was me being ungrateful, I’m just useless at buying presents and he always says not to buy him things unless they’re useful… And I never know what is to a bloke in his late 40-s! In the end, I made him a voucher list of things like “1 pint of Strongbow/Guinness in the pub of your choice” and “I’ll cook 1 meal of your choice.” etc.
But I want my dad to know that I’m eternally grateful for everything he’s ever done for me...
Now a lot of people don’t know that Sid (as everyone knows him by) is not my biological Dad. My “real Dad” (although I hate the term) hasn’t been around for most of my life. It’s never bothered me and that’s because Sid has been there for me. I call Sid my Dad, not a step-dad, because although he’s married to my mum, he's more than a step-dad.
Dad adopted me in my teens, but he’s been a father to me since I was about 2 years old. When I was growing up, I never rebelled against him. Of course I was a stroppy teenager, but it was never a case of “you’re not my real Dad; you can’t tell me what to do.” I have never felt like that towards him.
We’ll be having a drink at the pub that I grew up in and so many people approach us, people that knew me as a young ’un, and say how similar we are, or how we have the same eyes, or the same refusal to admit we‘re wrong! We just smile and generally have a drunken conversation laughing about it with each other.
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| (From L-R, My little brother Marcus, Me, Mum, My older brother Ben, Dad) |

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