"... and a happy New Year"

At the end of grotto shows particularly if families aren't getting the message and departing I sing just: "And a happy New Year" without the preceding lines from We Wish you a Merry Christmas. Yet another Dad festive legacy and a handy form of conclusion.

Boxing

Pretending to box by having one hand in a fist and the other cupped just below the chin. I think he picked this up from his days boxing at Reading School, where he was taught to defend his chin - maybe the cupped hand was how it felt in the boxing glove. I found myself adopting this position while messing around with Aidan the other day and he's adopted it now - us both punching each others cupped hands, so we don't actually clock each other on the chin. This was raised back in 2011 as part of a longer list, but worth a trotting out again I think.

Solid ground

Polly and I entered the grotto to the strains of Johnny Mathis' 1976 Christmas chart-topper (I'm back in hospital radio DJ mode here), When a Child is Born. Dad used to sing the line "I'm on solid ground" every time Mum presented a dessert.

The song also always reminds me of cycling back from Bearwood on dark country lanes (now Lower Earley), my sheepskin gloves building up a layer of frost. I sang the song to stop myself getting too spooked.

The hurry up

 Walking upstairs to bed this evening, with Aidan just in front and dawdling, I used Dad’s technique of growling and whacking the stairs behind him as he then scampers up. It used to delight and terrify me in equal measure. 

Surprised this one hadn’t come up previously (I searched) but good to keep this ticking over and having at least one a year.

'k you p!

Hard to know how to spell this Dadism as it's more of a sound than a word. It's basically an abbreviation of "thank you", curiously appended with a p. Used to thank someone for a small favour.

Pic of the day: John recently posted this on Kirkys on Tour, of course, but here it is again for posterity.

Kirkwood Drive

Here's a interesting corner of the Kirkwood kingdom: Kirkwood Drive in Sydney. It's named after William Love Kirkwood, brother of our grandfather and sister of Aunt Peggy. He was a decorated military doctor who treated casualties from Gallipoli in the First World War. He emigrated from Ayrshire to Australia in 1906 to practice with his maternal uncles (both Kerrs). His grandson has just sent me William's biography.

Eager to be examined

Bertie comes home from school and recounts (very briefly) the day's pre-GCSE exams. "Try me on a question!", I implore, knowing full well that I'm unlikely to know the answer especially if the subject is science. Dad used to do that.

Pic of the day: A tantalisingly grainy scene from Pembrokeshire in 1975. I think we can all safely say that the actual colour of Mum's bikini, the windbreak and surfboard [great flash!] match. I think Dad's jumper was red too.