Tag Archives: Hero

My Father: No Cary Grant, But Still

17 Jun

All children look up to their fathers; this is obvious as most men are at least a good two feet taller than your average five-year-old. I’m not sure I’d go as far as saying my father was my hero—by the time I met him, he had been somewhat beaten down by life (read: his wife). However, to this day, I admire his wisdom, patience and the way his hair flicks up over his left ear (but not his right). He’s a man of few words, but I’ve learned a lot from him. Here are a few of my favourite fatherly gems:

1. Keeping a precise scorecard of a baseball game deserves as much respect as hitting a game-winning grand slam.

2. Never use your teeth to do anything but chew.

3. If you can’t be bothered to lace up your shoes, just buy loafers.

4. A good man keeps a tidy garage.

5. Any boy with a spitting habit should never be invited into the house.

6. Animals are better than most people.

7. When it’s your turn to talk, speak up. When it’s someone else’s turn to talk, listen.

8. Always return your library books on time.

9. Be kind.

10. Crime doesn’t pay (I’m not sure this one was originally his).

Of course, no man is perfect. He’s not a great dancer, occasionally wears trousers an inch too short, and married my mother.  But I can only think of one or two other men who would have been preferable as a father figure so overall I feel quite lucky.

Happy Father’s Day.

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Thank You, Driver, For Getting Me Here

3 Nov

If you’re like me, you probably grew up admiring lion tamers. Like Superman, lion tamers’ incredible talents, fantastic costumes and determination to do good for humanity are inspirational and sexually intriguing. Unfortunately, we all learn as we age that neither Superman nor lion tamers exist in the real world.

However, there are stylish, altruistic hard workers who walk among us. We see them everyday but rarely do we take a moment to either notice or appreciate them. They are bus drivers.

Hey, hey, hey now, Agatha (I hear you saying). Hay is for horses (I hear my elocution tutor saying). Please hear me out.

Often you’ll see in the editorial pages of the tabloids complaints about the buses: the stink of piss, the teenagers’ noise, the slight delays that on occasion may occur. These are simply hooey. Take it from a frequent rider (yes, I ride the bus, what of it?)—our public transport system is champion and it is due primarily to the humble and skilful bus driver.

Every single day in England, men (and I’ll admit a few women) risk their lives for our safety. Plenty of people bitch (excuse my French) but how many of you can manoeuvre that much steel and human cargo through the dangerous streets of our country? Let’s not forget that the average English street is barely wider than the average English bus. Once when I was on the Number 41 into the city, our bus driver managed to squeeze by an illegally parked Vauxhall Nova, passing the wing mirror with literally just an inch to spare. He neither blinked nor broke a sweat. That’s power.

Bus drivers must maintain this cool through other stresses, very often from the passengers they devote their lives to. We might be frustrated with other riders’ noise, confusion or lack of correct change, but these poor chaps have to deal with it for hours on end and they’re not allowed to slap or swear at any of them. They are also our guardians while we ride: I remember so clearly the day a fight broke out over the front seat on the Shopper Hopper and within seconds, the driver jumped from his seat, disarmed the attacker and quickly citizen-arrested him. Not impressive enough for you? I should add that during that same trip, our driver also performed cardiopulmonary resuscitation on an old dear, led us all in a sing-song and still managed to get us to the Supercentre right on time.

There are very few heroes left in the world today, but for me, bus drivers come closest to being modern day lion tamers. I just wish more wore hats. And carried whips.

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