My dad the single parent

I write blogs to hopefully inspire people to grow into better people. I know I am not perfect by any stretch of the imagination but I am a lover of people. I think as we get older we become more compassionate about people and think less about ourselves. Having children changed the way I thought, the way I drove my car and the way I viewed the world. Two years ago I started writing a life story after a man at my gym kept asking me if he could publish it. At first I thought what would I write about, thinking my life wasn't interesting enough to write a book about. Whether it is interesting enough is still debatable but once I got into writing it it helped me understand who I was and why I am the person I am. I wrote about 20,000 words then lost my mini laptop so never got to finish it. I would also suggest that everyone should write a life story it is great therapy. The biggest lesson I received from my life story was that my father was a fantastic man. I will try to keep this brief and leave your imagination to fill in the gaps. My Father (pictured right) was a Jamaican who came over to England 'his motherland' in the late 1950's after apparently being asked to leave the country by family because of the trouble he was causing. He left a son, Errol in Jamaica. On arriving in England he got numerous labouring jobs and was a bus driver and lorry driver for most of the time I remember. He started boxing and boxed out of Leamington Spa as a professional heavyweight in the same camp as World middleweight Champion Randolph Turpin, who famously defeated Sugar Ray Robinson. Whilst in Leamington Spa my father met the future mother of some of his children. The Children were Maxine, myself and Valerie. Our mum's name was formerly Patricia Mary Gladice Kidd which was not as funny as my dads full name Maxie Dougal Earle, but they were thankfully known as Maxie and Patsy. As I have mentioned in a previous blog mum fell victim to alcohol and moved away from Coventry to Banbury leaving my dad to bring us up. Bringing up 3 mixed race children in the late 1960's must have been a challenge, especially as a single dad. But in writing my life story I was to realise I had a very special dad who mixed discipline with a huge dollop of love. We lived on Milverton road in Coventry. A poor estate where even the dogs walked around in pairs and buses and taxis wouldn't go after a certain hour. But in all honesty it was great. There was violence and my dad did used to check beneath his lorry before starting it up. I never did ask him why. But we had an eventful childhood where hammering 6inch nails through sticks for weapons and using dustbin lids as shields to do battle, was one of my favourite games. Little things stand out in my mind as a child. The worst memories were of the fights and arguments my parents had before they finally separated, no child should have to see that and I would like to believe this was the reason my father decided to ask my mother to leave, but I was only an infant at the time. I believe too many people stay together for the children when the children would be much better off if they lived in a happier house with a single parent, when my mother left I was heartbroken and said prayers every night asking god to bring her back. But I was happier knowing there was no more fighting. Other memories I had were being asked to stay in the back of the house and stay quiet when there was a knock at the door if my dad was out working, because of visits from the Social Services (SS). My dad worked full time as a lorry driver and neighbours used to keep an eye on us but dad was frightened the SS would take us off him. Many times during the school holidays we were sat in the cab of his lorry (that just means next to him in the front of his lorry)and we would be travelling up and down the country in his 33ton loaded 'Foden' lorry delivering coal and we loved it. During the summer Holidays we would often stay in Leamington with my nan, aunts and uncles. They were great times my we had a lovely family soooo close. Dad did have a some short-term and a couple of long-term girlfriends. It would be unfair not to mention Yvonne, who was the mother of 2 more of our sisters, (Francine and Cassandra) and Sylvia who we lived with for a number of years. They were both lovely ladies and have remained friends over the years. Dad used to sit with us and tell us stories... actually some of the stories he would only tell me because they weren't for girls. I will tell a few later in this blog but some will have to remain secret Memories My dad like many dad's loved a practical joke and as kids we were always nervous of bringing our friends home. We would be concerned knowing that he would nine times out of ten shake their hands on meeting them and do the biggest fart... I remember one time that he was getting measured for a suit and as the man took his inside leg measurement dad let rip wit a fart that was strong enough to disturb the man's hairstyle. Yes is was disrespectful but as children we found it very funny. Asking my sisters friend if she wanted a ketchup sandwich and then making it from Tobasco hot pepper sauce was also not nice but very funny. I remember when we had a flat tyre on our car, we had no jack so he lifted the corner of the car whilst his mate changed a wheel. I also remember watching my dad cry watching a TV series called Roots about slavery. I really wish I could tell you more stories but my sisters would go crazy. I remember when my dad going to America a few years before he died to visit my brother Errol for the first time in more than 40 years and getting on famously. I remember my dad's last breath at hospital after losing his battle with diabetes. I remember how numb and empty I felt. Years on I still wish I could have persuaded him to choose a healthier lifestyle so we could have spent more time together. I know that it is not meant to be how long you live but how you live it but I wish he was still here. I believe he was happy for most of his life and had many experiences I will never enjoy. I also know his latter years were not happy and this was apparent when he turned to religion after a life of virtual Atheism. I have so many fond memories of my dad and wish he had hung around a little longer for my children to have similar memories. My dad was in my opinion a legend who is still living in me.