This blog is about me and my misadventures to get lost in the beautiful city that we live in… as well as some of my random mumblings
Growing up, we are dependent on our parents for a number of things. We rely on them for the basics; such as food, clothing, and shelter. We rely on them for intrinsic needs and motivation; to be loved, encouraged and supported, and we rely on them to teach us things.
There has been a number of times in my marriage where I have done something foreign, or said something that my husband didn’t know, and when asked why, have responded with; “…Because my Dad told me so.”
I grew up in the era, where computer lessons were on MS Dos, and plugging in the Encarta CD was only for fancy projects, so my Dad’s advice was pretty solid. The only time I started to ponder some of his ‘savoir-faire’ was when my husband argued with it.
Now, bearing in mind that my Dad could sell ice to an Eskimo, and that should he not know something will make up any answer that sounds remotely viable (a trait that I too have mastered), I was quite surprised at how little thought I had given to my Dad’s teachings. I always believed him to be right, and to know everything about everything. And he is still always right, and still knows everything – well at least he likes to think so.
It was only recently that my Dad has started asking me for my advice, which is basically all to do with the one subject that he cannot claim – the Internet. I have to admit, I am super proud of my Dad who has self-taught himself how to manage Outlook, and has finally moved on from typing everything into Google. But there is something quite rewarding on being able to tell your parents about something that they know nothing about: A knowledge that you can impart on them for a change.
Yesterday, my Dad phoned me because he didn’t know how to download something, and I’m helping him set up his website. It was brilliant! This is a rare occurrence if ever there was any; a Fenwick admitting that they do not know something, and seeking advice! If you are reading this blog, and do not know my family, this last bit might be lost on you, but if you do know the gang on Fenwick’s, and particularly Peter Fenwick, then I am guessing that you are having a good laugh right now.
So yes, I am a proud daughter. It has taken 26 years for my dear old Geordie, and highly opinionated Dad to ask for my advice. And I am happy to help, especially because I know it is the one thing he cannot argue about 😉