Productivity is the name of the game - In the name of Thiago - Day 143
Well that’s a sentence
I never imagined writing having spent the whole day with my father. But I shit
you not, it really is the truth. It started fairly inauspiciously with his realisation
that he had failed to leave our house with his mobile, which was the only means
of contact that Pickfords had for him. Thankfully, that was the only low point.
We stood around for
two hours – we would have sat around had there been any furniture –
waiting for Pickfords
to arrive. That were booked to arrive anywhere from 9.30-10.30 so of course
no-one showed up until 11.30. When they did eventually rock up, there was no
hint of an apology for their tardiness, which I only knew about after hassling
their London hq.
It made me think that
their line of work is actually quite a good one to be in. You’ve already paid
by the time the fellas turn up to drop off your belongings so whether they do it
in a timely fashion probably doesn’t really matter shit to them. And as for
whether the contents of the boxes are damaged or not, again not really their
problem I guess once you’ve signed to say that the boxes are in your possession.
We didn’t dare to go through them all, that can wait for another day.
One of the items to emerge
from the lorry today brought back some memories, and here is the old man stood next
to it proudly on his kitchen wall. From the early 70s through to the mid 90s, when
it was wound up on its 50th anniversary, Dad worked at, and then
latterly following my Grandad’s retirement, ran Smith and Gibbs boatyard in
Latimer Road, Eastbourne.
It would be quite easy
to write a whole blog about the Smith and Gibbs years, for they were utterly
extraordinary. It was sad that the business went to the wall in the mid 90s but
the more remarkable thing is that is lasted that long. This was a different time
to run a business, a far cry from my own experience of running a film company
from 2006-14. This was way better.
Questionable business arrangements,
three-hour pub lunches and a lot of work done cash in hand is what I can
recall. But there was nothing dishonest about the way Dad did things. Far from
it. Dad always had the very highest levels of integrity, it was just a reflection
of the times he lived in. The bar tab at the Beach Tavern was something else. Incredible times!
Now of course one thing
you’ll definitely need when navigating your way around the back streets of
Stoke-on-Trent is a tram timetable for the suburbs of southwest Melbourne.
There was a huge ton of shit that Dad will almost certainly never need and yet
he decided to pack it up and send it back to England anyway.
I really hope he does
build this shed he’s on about in his garden because he now has enough tools to
last him a fucking lifetime. I am actually wondering whether he packed them all
to take to Australia in 2002 and that is in fact the first time that they’ve been
opened since then. Well even if they are it was worth seeing him unpack the
stuff for the smile it brought to his face.
This was without doubt
the most entertaining discovery from unloading all his shit today. For a man
who has probably never cleaned anywhere in his life, he now has his and hers
vacuum cleaners. They’re even red and blue for fuck’s sake! In fairness to the
big man only one of these came in the Pickfords delivery today, but I did find
this hilarious.
All in all though, I
have to say it’s been a great day. Me and the big man have got on really well
and we even managed to purchase two beds, one of which will be delivered
tomorrow. It’s been an all guns blazing kind of day.
Thank you for reading everyone
and as I always say, if you can spare anything towards my fundraising effort,
then please do. We’re £100 short of the £7000 mark so it would be great to help
get up to that milestone. You’ll be doing a wonderful thing for me and the two
hospitals, which did so much to try to save my boy if you can help me.
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