Thank you so much for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xxx Yorkshire, England
I went to stay with dad for a few days. He had suffered a bit of a cold, although to hear him tell, he was on his last legs, the Grim Reaper was circling.
"Dad, you're not even sixty, you are retired on a great pension, I don't understand."
"I was really ill baby. You know the doctors won't even see you unless you have done a PCR test, and by the time that arrives, and then is sent off and the results come back, you are either dead or better."
"Yes dad, and you are better."
"No thanks to doctors."
"Perhaps, dad, here's a thought, perhaps they are dealing with people who have something more serious than a common cold."
"You know the common cold kills thousands of people a year, well it did, until they renamed it Covid, now it doesn't kill anyone, but covid does."
"Dad you had a cold, you did not have covid."
"Hrmph"
I guess he wasn't happy. He had a cold, it made him unwell for a few days.
"Oh Dad. Right what would you like me to cook you for tea? What is in the fridge?"
I opened his fridge to have a look at what was there, Onions, tomatoes and mince beef. On his spice rack was Oregano. In the cupboard was dried spaghetti.
"How about a spag bol dad?"
"That would be nice, yes, thank you, should slip down easily after my sore throat."
Does he never stop? There was some garlic paste in the fridge and a loaf in the bread bin.
"I'll do some garlic bread to go with."
I peeled and diced the onion that put it in a pan to fry. When that was softened, I scraped it out of the pan and left it in a sieve to drain. The mince went in next and whilst that was browning, I grated a carrot and added that to the mince. Next I added two teaspoons of the minced garlic. Cut, peeled and chopped the tomatoes, added them, added a good amount of oregano. I took the mince mixture and added it to the onions to drain away the fat, and then returned it all to the fry pan, added a bay leaf from his garden, and a good squeeze of tomato puree I found in dad's cupboard, no idea how old it was, well, it was going to get cooked, who cares if it was a little on the old side. We didn't have passata or wine, so I gave it a few squeezes of tomato ketchup and just let it simmer away to thicken.
I bought a great big pan of water to boil, added salt and some oil, and when I judged the ragu was ready I added the pasta to the boiling water and got it to curl around the pan. I buttered some bread and then spread some of the garlic mince over the bread and put it into the oven. Stirred the spaghetti to stop it sticking together and waited until it was just past al dente. Dad preferred his spaghetti on the soft side. I drained the spaghetti in the sieve and then tossed it into the mince and rage, and thoroughly mixed it together, dividing it between two large bowls. Garlic bread out of the oven and we were done. Twenty minutes tops.
"I have some beer in the fridge sweetie," he said, well I guess I was pouring beer.
In the fridge were some cans of IPA, I took a couple and pulled the ring pulls, put one by dad and one by me and sat down.
"Enjoy."
"Thank you sweetie," he said, a forkful of Bolognese already on its way to his mouth.
He only had ready grated Parmesan in the fridge, and I can't stand the aroma, so I didn't produce it and I didn't mention it. He was slurping strands of spaghetti of his fork; he wouldn't miss it. I have to say, the Bolognese was rather good and so was the garlic bread, the last of the IPA washed down the last forkful, yes that was quite excellent, even if I did say so myself, such an easy thing to knock up.
Whilst dad went and sat in front of the TV news I did the washing up. Only two pots, and one of them was mostly water from cooking the pasta, the fry pan was easy, and then it was the plates and cutlery. It didn't take me long at all. I went into the lounge and sat with dad.
We watched some really odd programmes about engineering mistakes, very American in production, and, for me, grating to watch, but dad seemed to enjoy bridges collapsing, cranes failing, demolitions going awry and falling the wrong way. I just grinned and bore it. Eventually dad tired and wanted to go to bed, apparently his cold had taken it out of him, and did I mind an early night?
"No dad, you go up first, I will just make sure everywhere is locked, things are off and then I will go up to my room. I gave him plenty of time to go to the loo, wash, do his teeth etc, I checked that the windows were shut, doors were locked, sockets turned off, fridge and freezer shut etc, and then I went up and saw to myself.
I lay in bed dozing, not really sleeping. I was thinking about dad, he really has gone down since mum passed away. I think she tempered him, kept the excesses under control, now without her, he basically has no filter. Her loss hit him hard, and now it is as if the whole world is against him. Silly really, we love him as much as ever, it is just, well, he can be so difficult.
When I woke up dad was still snoring so I dived into the bathroom, showered and dressed in bra, pants and a dress. Downstairs I put the kettle on and waited for dad to surface. I shouted up to dad that the kettle was on, well, there is no point lazing around in bed, not when you have guests. I heard dad moving around and eventually he appeared in the kitchen.
"Right dad, tea or coffee, and toast or cereal?
"Darn it Mica I don't usually get up before ten."
"You have a guest. Tea or coffee, and toast or cereal?"
"Coffee, toast and marmalade, please."
"How do you like your toast, as the toaster is set?"
"Yes, four minutes."
I put two slices in, set it off and then made his coffee. Butter out of the fridge, and marmalade out of his larder. Toaster went ping, I put the toast, butter and marmalade in front of him, I am not his servant, he can do the rest himself, and took his coffee over.
I sat and hugged my coffee whist dad constructed his breakfast from the materials I had provided. Delivery, yes, construction servant, no.
"Let's go for a walk this morning dad."
"Where to?"
"Let's go and walk over Hewenden Viaduct, they have made it a footpath now the trains no longer use it. Just something to see dad, and something to do."
"Okay, I haven't seen it since they did that, fine."
The day was fine and sunny with a few white fluffies in the sky, perfect for walking. When dad was ready we headed off towards Cullingworth, parked up, and picked up the path to the old viaduct. The path which largely followed the old track bed was smooth and made of compacted stones, easy to walk on in my trainers, dad had his walking boots on. They must be at least thirty years old, but dad still kept them clean and polished, and preferred to wear them if walking was on the agenda.
Soon the shrubs and trees that lined the route of our walk thinned and then were gone and we were on the approach itself. The viaduct curved to our right and as we walked along it, the view across the beck and the small valley to the reservoir was pretty stunning. I stood in the middle, I am not good with heights, and slowly turned, taking in the views., my dress billowing around me in the breeze. Pretty glad I wore underwear, especially as dad seemed more interested in looking at me than the views.
We couldn't see a soul anywhere, no one else was out walking, I could not for the life of me fathom why not. It looked stunning, the scenery was stunning, the engineering was breathtaking in its achievement.
"What do you think dad? By the way, the view is over there, not my knickers." Well, really dad, he should be old enough to know better.
