Fri Jul II
Dad in awful mood, but he says I can watch Argentina – Brazil at 3.15am so things are looking up!
Nowadays I can fully sympathise with Dad’s position. No matter how much you love your kids, coming back after a week away must be like wandering into the middle of a maelstrom. Faced with a stroppy teenager, a stroppy near-teenager and two other children under the age of 8 it can only have been his deep and (now) 45 years long love of my mother. I certainly can’t see why he would want to return to us lot and I’m slightly wondering why he didn’t get on the first train back to Wellington.
In truth, of course, we were all always glad to see him, be it at the end of a working day or the end of a week away. I think there are three stages of growing up – not realising that your parents are in a mood, realising that your parents are in a mood, and realising why your parents are in a mood. I was at the second stage throughout this diary and probably only hit stage three many years later and with the benefit of a good deal of hindsight.