Were there any happy times?

I don't know, maybe it is because it is the season of goodwill but I have been trying to remember good times I had with my dad. It is quite sad really as I am struggling to remember many whereas the memories of the good times with my Mum would continue for infinity and beyond.

Earliest happy memory with him must have been when I was about three or four. He used to play golf with all the other ministers on their day off and I don't know if one of them suggested it or whether it was his own idea but he bought me a miniature club and a few soft golf balls. I did not get many presents so it was a big surprise. I merrily swung the club and missed the balls each time but oh what fun I had. After about three goes, he could not help himself; he placed the club properly in my grip and moved my arm to swing the right way too. [I would like to insert a virtual 'that's incorrect' buzzer noise here.] I remember, as soon as he started manoeuvring my hand and arm, it was not fun any more. It had turned into something that I did not like.

When I was about five, we lived in a house with a long passage that suited a football being kicked the length of it. Well, it suited my dad as the ball could not go astray as is my want when kicking footballs! I remember really enjoying those times. He would be happy and smiling. Unfortunately, this happiness would always end in misery. My Mum would come along once we had finished playing and would spot the dirty football scuff marks along the walls. As it was not our house and she was always anxious about that, she would insist on us washing down the walls to clean them. My dad and I would sit there scrubbing those walls and any happiness we had had, dissipated.

Around the same time, we would all go and watch football on a Friday night. Our team was Germiston Callies and the linesman was one of the members of my dad's congregation. It was fun and I loved watching and listening to the crowd cheer on their team. I chose to ignore my dad's vitriolic shouting when he was not happy about something that occurred on the pitch. I think I was grateful that someone else was getting verbal abuse and it was not my Mum or me. I did not like the way people would turn and look at us though, I have always loathed my dad making a scene in public and thereby causing me to receive unwanted attention.

Another memory is from the times we used to get free tickets from school for our family to go to the circus. I used to love that too. Well, I loved the clowns and watching the animals but I hated that the animals were kept in cages. It did not sit well with me then and I still feel the same way today. But it was a free night out and I loved seeing everyone laughing and joking in the crowd. It definitely was a desperately needed escape from my home situation.

A very happy time for me with my dad, would be when we would go and visit his friends who were marionettists. Walking into their home was the most magical place in the world for me as a little girl. As soon as they opened their front door, I could see marionettes hanging from every available space. They were on the ceiling, on chairs, on the floor, just everywhere. I remember not knowing where to look first as one would catch my eye and then I would glimpse another one and another. Just looking at them filled me with wonder and joy. The couple would always do a short improvised performance for us that would draw me in to the marionettes world. And it was always a loving kind world where no-one was nasty, every body was happy and cheerful. Wow, what a wonderful world that must be. I never used to want to leave and go home. I used to wish I could live with them in their house with all those endearing characters and their sweet owners.

We also used to go caravanning a lot. Any spare time my dad got, we would either go travelling around safari parks or stay in a local caravan park with people we knew well. There was an elderly couple called Sim and Marie who were like family to me. Sim was always so kind and gentle. He had been in the navy and had arms and legs covered in tattoos that fascinated me. Now I think about it, Sim was very similar in nature to my Grandad, my Mum's Dad. Yes, they were like two peas in a pod really. Thank goodness I had both of them in my life at that time. And Marie was the smiliest, happiest woman I had ever met. She cooked and baked with my Mum and me and we always had a relaxing time with her. Then, at night time, all the families used to sit around one big campfire stargazing, singing songs and telling stories. It was a very special time. My dad would be on his best behaviour so I knew he would not beat me with Sim and Marie around. He would have definitely got his just deserts*.

Looking back on these times during my formative childhood years, I realise making human connections and escaping my world were at the forefront and meant so much to me. Although most of these 'happy' memories are tinged with sadness and hardships, that was my reality.

PS * You learn something new every day. I always thought it was 'just desserts' but thought I had better check. Even though it is pronounced 'desserts', the spelling is 'deserts'. Fascinating fact of the day.