The extraordinary tale of the £50 cooker - In the name of Thiago - Day 119
Readers who have been
with me for a large part of my blogging journey will recall that earlier on in
the year I spent some time looking at properties with my Dad with a view to him
moving into his own place.
Well quite recently he
had an offer on a bungalow in Longton, Stoke-on-Trent accepted and for the last
week or so the cash has been sat in the account of the solicitors that have
been handling the conveyancing.
Remarkably, one of the
reasons that things have been held up for as long as they have, is this £50
cooker. The previous – although technically that should be current I suppose –
owners wanted £50 for the cooker to be left there. Dad refused. I thought fair
enough that’s your choice mate, without fully considering why Dad wouldn’t want a
cooker in his kitchen. Maybe he plans to eat out a lot. No actually I didn’t
think that for a single moment.
Then he started talking
about having a new kitchen. It’s true to say that the kitchen as it stands is
very dated but to be honest I didn’t think that would bother him particularly.
Although it should also be said that cooking is Dad’s thing, so perhaps I
simply didn’t give the circumstances that are now playing out enough
consideration, due to the happiness that I was feeling from him finding a place
that he was going to live that wasn’t my fucking house.
If only it were that
simple. Dad has managed to convince himself that he will be moving into his new
home as and when he is good and ready and that this cannot possibly be until
after he has had a new kitchen fitted, which he is planning on talking my younger
brother Judd into building.
The big man claims
that he is certain that I told him that Angelica and I wanted the cooker from his
new house. I did point out that would be a bit weird seeing as we have one
already, and we will be having some renovation work ourselves in the autumn which
will result in a new kitchen. But nope he’s certain.
I had to bluntly tell
him yesterday that when the house officially becomes his, that we expect him to
be living in it. This seemed to come as a bit of a shock to the old man. The truth is
that I don’t think I can cope with another two months like the ones from
January to March where I wanted to smash my head repeatedly against a wall because
of his phenomenal dedication to indecisiveness. That cannot be allowed to
happen.
Of course I want to help
him with the move, get him comfortable and do the right thing but equally it’s
not going to be the case that he can just dither along for as long as he deems
necessary before he finally takes residence at his new gaff. He’s moving house,
he’s not building a fucking empire!
So after I gave my explanation
yesterday that Angelica and I have no use whatsoever for the cooker, he has still
told the estate agent that he doesn’t want the new, fairly serviceable spotless
cooker. Maybe he thinks I’m joking about asking him to move into his new home.
At least all this
carry on has made for a welcome distraction from the sadness I was experiencing
yesterday that’s definitely a good thing. Even if my father’s constant state of
prevarication is equally starting to do my nut. Whatever next? Actually don’t
answer that..
I shall end tonight as
I often do by reminding you all why I’m doing this and that’s to remember the
gorgeous little boy above and to raise £10,000 for the two hospitals – Royal Stoke
University Hospital and Birmingham Children’s Hospital that cared for him with
such compassion and tenderness in his tragically short lifetime. Anything you
can donate will give me a little lift because this is my life’s work now.
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