I love my Dad
Mar. 30th, 2002 09:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fleetfootmike[the post I was about to make before I got home and caught the news, made perhaps the sharper by the loss of someone who many people in the UK, unrealistically or not, saw in some way as a favourite older relative]
Went to see my parents with Anne and James this weekend. Got to talking about this and that, and happened to mention to Dad that I was building a pedalboard to hold my guitar effects, and did he happen to have a piece of ply about so big...?
"I dare say I might..." says Dad, in that way he has, and disappears into the garage...
I haven't really watched my father work, even on such a little thing, since I left home. Two minutes of ferreting in the garage produced a piece of MDF of about the right size, followed by another ten minutes which produced a much better piece of ply - typical Dad not to settle for the first piece.
I helped him cut it - he was showing off one of his birthday presents - a set of quick clamps for holding wood and such. The saw rather damaged the underneath ply of the wood on the first cut, so, being Dad, he rejected that, and recut it. And, once cut to size, dug out a sanding block, and sanded all the cut edges and corners free of sharp spots and splinters.
I watched, and couldn't help but marvel, quietly, at him working: the eye for detail, the fact that he considered the sanding part of the job, that a job half-done was no job at all.
I love my Dad.
Went to see my parents with Anne and James this weekend. Got to talking about this and that, and happened to mention to Dad that I was building a pedalboard to hold my guitar effects, and did he happen to have a piece of ply about so big...?
"I dare say I might..." says Dad, in that way he has, and disappears into the garage...
I haven't really watched my father work, even on such a little thing, since I left home. Two minutes of ferreting in the garage produced a piece of MDF of about the right size, followed by another ten minutes which produced a much better piece of ply - typical Dad not to settle for the first piece.
I helped him cut it - he was showing off one of his birthday presents - a set of quick clamps for holding wood and such. The saw rather damaged the underneath ply of the wood on the first cut, so, being Dad, he rejected that, and recut it. And, once cut to size, dug out a sanding block, and sanded all the cut edges and corners free of sharp spots and splinters.
I watched, and couldn't help but marvel, quietly, at him working: the eye for detail, the fact that he considered the sanding part of the job, that a job half-done was no job at all.
I love my Dad.
