My dad is the man who, when I was growing up, went to work early and came home after I was in bed except for those times when I'd done something bad enough that I had to wait up until he got home to tell me off for it.
My dad is the person who explained to me why the sky was blue, although it was so scientifically detailed that it didn't really go in and if anyone asks me now I have to Google it; but I do know that it's something to do with refraction.
My dad was the tallest man in the whole world, and when he put me on his shoulders I felt like a giant.
My dad is the parent I argued with the most, hugged the least, and scowled at solidly for pretty much my entire teenage years, and the only adult whose temper I was ever really scared of especially if I slammed a door so hard all the glass fell out of it. But whenever he wiggled his ears he could make me laugh.
My dad is the person who taught me it's important to sort your screws and nails into different sizes and types although I didn't believe him until 20-odd years later, and that various bits of metal and wood will always come in handy at some point if you keep them long enough.
My dad told me about Archimedes and his bathtub, how to grow carrots and change a wheel, the benefits of WD-40 and how not to load a pane of glass into the back of the car unless you want to smash it on your head and you have to take yourself and your young daughter to A&E to get stitched up while pouring buckets of blood everywhere.
My dad is the man who makes a comb-over look cool.
My dad is the man who, when you tell him something's broken, doesn't say take it to the shop or get a man in or what am I supposed to do about it, but says "let's have a look" and always tries to fix it even and especially if he doesn't have a clue, and usually manages it.
My dad can't cook a damn thing except fish fingers and porridge, both of which he is brilliant at but I hope he never cooks them at the same time.
My dad has hands as tough as the underside of a rhino's foot, but when he gets a splinter it still really hurts so he will sit quietly while I use the tweezers to fish it out for him.
When I do something silly or go somewhere dangerous, my dad is the person who tells my mum I'll be absolutely fine and there's nothing to worry about.
My dad is not too fussed about Father's Day, Christmases or birthdays, just so long as you ring your mum and come and see us when you can.
My dad makes every other man look a bit rubbish.
My dad never cries, it's just that his eyes are wet.
My dad is my hero.
Happy Father's Day x
