A love letter for the best man I'll ever know:
I'm not too sure where to start with this one, I think the base for it comes from place of massive gratitude, really. It's often too easy to be ungrateful, to become frustrated with things that, in the grand scheme, do not matter at all. I wasn't too sure whether I wanted to write this post - those that know me know I don't really talk about my family too often, but it's nice to sit and think about why I love what I love, and I can't really talk about how much I love music without talking about my Dad.
My Dad is my absolute hero, and he's taught me how to really love music. He used to drive this really old land-rover when I was a kid, so old it had a cassette player in it. I thought it was the coolest thing in the whole world. One of my first memories is sitting in the back seat with all the windows down, I used to love one tape, so I would ask for it all the time. Eventually, I came to understand it for what he was - Jimi Hendrix, an absolute icon, all from that one tiny little cassette blaring down a country road. In time, a new land-rover later, it became a sort of unspoken routine. He'd pick me up from school, and I'd put on songs I loved, and songs I thought he'd love. Maybe he didn't love some of them, but he'd pretend to if it made me happy. The only questionable choice of his was a weird obsession with Daniel Merriweather's 'red' (I promise he's better than that). Anyway, this became one of the perks of my day, no pressure to talk, or to like anything or to be anyone, I could just sit in silence with my best friend, listening.
Looking back, I must've been quite a difficult child to manage, I always wanted to try everything, constantly moving; always full of energy. I was never told no when it came to a musical instrument (except the drums, for the neighbours, but a cello was okay somehow?), it's something I've only recently come to appreciate. None of my siblings are musical, my brother tried to play the trombone once but the sound he made could've easily been used as evidence in a murder case, I think I was maybe a bit spoilt when I asked for instruments because everybody had 'their thing' and all I wanted to do was tap my feet. I didn't really realise the subtlety of his love until now, he never tells me not to try something, always believes in me, quietly says from the next room 'that one's good charl' when he can hear me practising on a sleepless night. He isn't really a talker, very much likes his own space, a little bit closed, but he shows me enough love to last me a lifetime. I just wanted to write something to say thank you, really, for everything.
My Dad is completely himself, not always a good thing, but consistent nonetheless. He can be reckless, and shy, closed but loving, whatever he is, I always end up laughing. This is such a difficult time, for so many reasons, but it's a little bit better when I can be thankful for the people in my life. My Mam works for the NHS, she's my favourite person in the world, such a strong, brave woman. It would seem cruel to share a post between the two of them, when I could write a full book of every little thing I want to say, for that she'll get her own post.
You're my best friend, thanks for taking every ounce of love and giving it to me, even on the days I was maybe not-so kind. Love you, forever and always.
This is a playlist for the big man himself: