The Flagging Dad

Apr 28

Apr 28 Haven is a Place on Earth (Part 1)

Every 4-6 weeks, I go to The Big Car Wash on Kirkstall Road. I appreciate this is lazy but, amidst the endless reams of soul-sapping admin and domestic chores that accompany being a 37-year-old, sacrificing hours of my life to hose and hoover our Dacia Sandero is where I draw a line.

There are few things on earth more horrifying than the back of a family car when you remove the child seats and, as I pulled up and evaluated the filth: crumbs, dry mud, and a McDonald’s fry that could feasibly have been there for a month, I considered whether this was the worst state it has ever been in.

“Please can I get a mini valet?” I asked.

A muscular Eastern European man opened the back door, glanced at the seats, and looked, frankly, appalled.

“You need a full one, boss.”

Jun 24

Jun 24 Center Parcs, 2023 (part 2)

Andy Carter

Our next stop was the Jardin des Sports where Louise ordered a pair of espresso martinis. This seemed a wildly inappropriate drink given we were surrounded by badminton courts and a roller-skating class. I was also surprised as she is becoming increasingly cautious with her caffeine consumption; when I made a latte for her at 2 pm recently, she looked livid.

“I’m not drinking coffee at this time, Andy! Have you gone mad?”

Jun 19

Jun 19 Center Parcs, 2023 (part 1)

Andy Carter

A friend of mine told me that installing a roof rack on his car was the moment when it really struck him that he is a dad.

“More so than the birth of your daughter?”

“Yes.”

I cannot fully vouch for his claim as I paid extra at Halfords for a teenage lad who was, I think, stoned, to install ours while I sat in Starbucks, sipping a latte, but I can see his point; a roof rack confirms your youth is over.

May 23

May 23 Menorca (part 1)

Andy Carter

We were on an early morning flight meaning 3.30 am alarms to peel two sleeping children out of their beds and bundle them into an Uber. Ordinarily, there is nothing good about being in a twilight taxi aged 35 but this was our first trip abroad since 2017 and I was feeling jovial. Sadly, this was quelled as we arrived at Leeds Bradford Airport to see an unfathomably long, snaking queue to security. Joining us at the back, a man in a Lambretta tracksuit was livid, swearing quite a lot, and saying he was willing to pay “up to £35” to jump to the front which seemed an oddly specific limit. He then stormed off, presumably to find a Jet 2 employee to haggle with.

“What did he expect?” Louise said, shaking her head. “Has he not been watching the news?”

“I know, how ridiculous,” I replied.

I had not been watching the news and I was not expecting this.