Dad’s Birthday

For as long as I can remember my daddy has been my hero.

Last week we celebrated his birthday.

Dad doesn’t tend to get much of the spotlight. He has a beautiful wife, a family who completely adore him and a close knit group of friends. While the rest of us Instagram, Tweet and blog he just chugs away quite happy with the life he’s built for himself.

I thought I’d use his birthday to make a little bit of a fuss of him!

He’s one of the kindest, most generous, funny and sharpest men I know. Whatever the problem he’s always there to talk it through.

There were times when I hated him. Usually during our after school compulsory maths classes or when we’d be walking the dogs late at night and he’d howl like a werewolf and chase my petrified brother and I through the darkness.

Growing up he was strict but forgiving. Whenever you’d been caught doing something really bad there was always a twinkle in his eye to let you know he was almost proud of you for being so fiendish.

He built dens with us, taught us to ride, ski and play every sport imaginable.

He’d take us white water rafting, caving, cliff jumping and together we even ran to the top of Snowdon and back. He never once made me feel that there were things “a girl” shouldn’t join in with and taught me that anything boys can do, I could do better.

He’s a man’s man and a sport nut. There’s nothing quite like being the person dad chooses to take to a rugby game. You feel that you’re the only person that matters and that pride is immeasurable. To this day (Welsh) rugby is the only sport I watch and it’s because even if I’m in London and he’s back home… for that game we’re side by side.

I grew up groaning every time he’d play Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash or James Taylor and now I can’t get enough of them!

It’s funny how that works, isn’t it?

I’m so proud of my old man and I don’t want to wait until after he’s gone to tell him how much I love him and how much he means to me.

This year he came to London for his birthday and we thoroughly spoilt him.

Dad may be my hero, but his hero is Bob Dylan.

He last saw Bob perform when he was 16, so we knew we couldn’t skip an opportunity to take him again.

We went to the Royal Albert Hall to rock out!

Dylan crooned his way through a good two hours of classics and earned a standing ovation from the whooping, cheering crowd of fans, young & old.

If you were to ask dad what your recommended “Five a Day” are, he’d list a number of steak cuts and ask if those count.

With his love of beef in mind we bundled him into a cab and shot off to Chop Shop.

Here’s the well behaved side of the table…

Annnnd the other side.

I’ve blogged about Chop Shop before and knew dad would love it.

They serve meat, meat and more meat.

Between us we ordered most of the menu.

Hanger steak with a red wine & bone marrow sauce.

35 day aged rosemary brushed rib chop.

Fillet steak smothered in bernaise sauce.

And a few veggies, not that dad noticed.

Ok, I think he might have noticed that one.

It was a lovely evening, washed down with enough red wine to float a small battleship.

Happy Birthday dad, I couldn’t be prouder to be your little girl.

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