Tip Tip Hooray

Today was an interesting day. It was the penultimate (hopefully) visit to Dad's flat and involved several trips to the local tip. I was wondering how I'd feel about clearing the place; what memories there would be and what emotions it would arouse?

As it turned out, it was all perfectly OK and I found that there was very little that gave me a touch of whimsy. Strangely enough, it was little things that brought back memories, like his hair brush that he seems to have had forever and a kitchen knife that had a blade about 2 inches long where he had sharpened it constantly over the years and awoke memories of family meals long gone.

The tip trips were also interesting and made me feel vaguely guilty about the consumerism of the Western world. There was a constant stream of cars disgorging perfectly serviceable goods and, seeing the mountain of detritus ready to be consigned to landfills, made me aware of just how well we seem to be screwing up this planet of ours. The YMCA have, very shrewdly, managed to get a site at the tip and I was pleased to pass them (what I thought was) a load of useful items. I was told that they didn't require the likes of glass decanters, brandy glasses and other glassware, neither did they require crockery or TV stands as they were awash with them. I pictured how this would seem to an awful lot of the World's population and quickly switched thought channels.

Tonight I was wondering what, of mine, the young Bassetts might look at fondly when I pass on to that great SuperHero heaven? As an inveterate collector, they'll have plenty to choose from. I'd love to see the look on their faces when they see I have kept every card and drawing they ever gave me. Perhaps they'll be surprised at what I have written over the years? Whatever it is, I hope that they will be able to understand the man as well as the Father. Most of all though, I hope that they will understand the deep joy and pride I have in them.

I learned something about my Dad today - he was a sock freak and had hundreds of the damn' things. Thinking about it, they were a stock answer whenever he was asked what he wanted for Christmas or Birthdays. I never bought them of course but it seems he had a secret sock pimp who, presumably, dropped off vast amounts in plain brown envelopes.

Sadly, there seem to be few avenues for sock recycling. Personally, I think they would be good for recuperating hyperthermic bats or perhaps the Shari Lewis Appreciation Society but my approaches in both avenues have been blocked.

The barefoot "Kinnellliscold" Inuit tribe have sadly died out otherwise I would be hailed as their saviour as indeed have the followers of St Robin the Unshod. It was he that expounded the theory of walking barefoot over 40 foot wide chasms as an act of faith (or perhaps a leap of faith?). In fact, his main claim to fame is as the antithesis of mass conversion. As he plummeted a third of a mile, his 20,000 followers immediately lost their religion and, with happy shouts of "Bleeding loony", reverted to their pagan but essentially life-preserving ways and ransacked the local Primark footwear department.

Anyway, as I say, it's been an interesting day............but then, aren't they all.