A smalltown boy

I am sitting in a coffee shop (a Costa drive thru) that was not here a year ago, everything in my home town seems to change and also seems to remain the same, it seems to have a lot of drive-thru cafes etc. which seems very American in a poor tribute to suburban USA.  I have not lived here properly since 1988 with a small period spent here from June 1992 to August 1993 then never came back. So here I sit, trying to work between looking after my dad who had knee replacement surgery on Monday (it is now Friday). He is improving but I never know how real carers cope, it is hard on everyone. My dad has not reacted well to being helped, especially relating to bathroom things. I think it is tough on a 78 year old man to have his wife and his son helping him in the bathroom, I know I didn't enjoy it.  The experience of seeing your father as a frail person is tough, it seems to erase the memories of childhood, memories of him carrying you, swimming etc. Another thing about caring for parents, or trying to help them, is you realise they don't want your help despite them needing it. I am sure my dad thinks I am totally useless at practical things but of the three adult kids, I am the one here, helping, being barked at etc. my sisters will show their faces for 10-20 minutes and my dad will be happy. I can help him up and down the stairs for a week and he shouts at me for showing him how to send voice messages on whats-app. Fun. 

I've not spent this long in Washington for a long long time and it is always weird. As I walk through the local shopping centre etc. I look at faces I partly recognise from school etc. but I am not sure. I feel as if one tiny part of me belongs here, but I don't belong here, I am other, I am elsewhere. I see the people I know here, the people I am friends with, but I always feel like a weird tourist, visiting partly out of duty because I hated this place as kid/teenager, it was boring, it was cruel and those memories of the cruelty are still strong. My old school has been rebranded and is now a performing arts academy which is laughable as any boy showing any dramatic/singing/dancing talent would have been beaten to a pulp by the thugs and laughed at by some of the teachers. My school made Grange Hill seem normal. 

I am here for a few more days, making sure my dad is mobile and is able t0 do things himself without needing the help of me or my mam as they'll have to cope without help when I am gone.  As a friend far away said to me yesterday ' cherish the good moments you will both laugh about them later' god I hope so.

Washington, Tyne & Wear - June 9th 2023