My Unsung Hero

So come on everyone...who's your unsung hero? Really think about it. It could be a relative, friend or colleague. You could have several unsung heroes or just the one. Right now, having been through quite a tough few months, I wanted to use my blog to write about my mine.

My close friends and family know how close I am to my parents, in fact, I wrote about it in a previous post. And when I'm having a tough time of it, need to just feel safe and loved, like many daughters, I turn to my mum. She has endless patience with my 'craziness', gives never-ending love, and has a slightly zany sense of humour (you may have wondered where I get it from!) that has contributed to the creation of a list of 'Hodsoll-isms', words that only our family know and use correctly. Words such as 'sprotzel' and 'situation-malation'. Mum also has awesome skills with a cake mixer and has the ability to make the best bolognaise EVER! Oooo...and lasagne, roast dinner...sausages and cheesy leeks...

But my unsung hero, who may be slightly embarrassed by this declaration is...my one and only Dad!

Dad's one of those people who will always be busy, not crazy, rushed-off-your-feet busy but he will just always find something to occupy himself with. In the garden, planting up vegetables (and babysitting my strawberry plants), mending something, putting together some complicated structure that's to become a new porch. I'll admit he's also partial to having a snooze in front of the TV in the evening but hey, we all need to indulge every now and again...or every evening eh Dad?!

I was inspired to dedicate a blog post to my Dad when a few weeks ago, I was helping with one of his aforementioned little projects...preparing the side of the house for its face-lift from wonky, old lean-to to a 'side porch'...or a more robust, weather-proof lean-to. I appointed myself as his apprentice and eagerly set to with this big, kangaroo-like thing (stereotypical female here in not knowing its proper name!) and broke up some concrete flooring so we could get some markers in place to indicate where the floor will sit to be level. The current floor is decidedly not level! 

When we were preparing the markers, and I say 'we' when really I was just sitting there looking mystified, I was watching Dad...and I knew that in his head some crazy construction calculation was going on. Working out the thickness of the different layers of flooring from final floor covering through to floor boards and joists so we could accurately mark the finished floor level. That may sound simple but when the current floor level varies, well, the maths seems to get more complicated. Basically, I was in awe!

(Above: 'Bodge-It and Scarper' reporting for duty.)

(Above: keeping a check on his work. You can't be too careful...)

Dad will readily admit that he doesn't understand the internal struggle I sometimes have with my mental health. He's one of those lucky sods who's never experienced the crazy world of depression and anxiety, or any other mental illness. Like I say...lucky sod! BUT most importantly, and for this I publicly thank him, from the bottom of my heart, he just 'is'. Steady and consistent, he encourages me to keep plodding on...and he doesn't even know he does, but then, neither do I sometimes!

Now I don't want my Mum to think she's not another hero of mine when it's impossible to contemplate how the last few months may have panned out without her by my side. Mum, you are my hero, my best friend and, at times, my carer. I suppose it's a natural thing for me to be with my mum. 

But Dad has to be ear-marked as my unsung hero as the time I spend with him, and him alone is less. There's no reason for that, it's just how it is. And I guess my reliance on him and my reliance on his unswerving presence is less obvious but it's there!  But, when younger, I was always keen to head down to Dad's shed to make random things out of off-cuts of wood, nails, PVA glue and wood shaving. The smell of cut wood always makes me think of Dad. I used to help him plant the veg seeds and then sampled the fresh pickings after washing them in stagnant water from the water butt (delicious!). Dad was the person to get splinters out of fingers, give a wheelbarrow ride and put a plank over a log and create a seesaw. Ah, good times!

So Dad, Mum...I love you both more than words can say.

PS. Hope this hasn't embarrassed you too much!