My Dad- just my Dad

My father was born and reared in the West of Ireland. Farmer by trade. One evening in August 1970 he was out in his field bailing hay. Two women cycled by and stopped. It was a warm summers evening and swallows abundant were flying low over the fields. One of the women caught my Dads eye. They chatted and Dad said it wasnt long before he and they were in the local pub having a few jars. The ladies were from Sweden on holiday in Ireland. Two years later my Dad married one of them- my mum. She moved from Malmo to Letterfrack a small village about 10 miles from Clifden. My mum had fallen in love with Ireland West, Connemara and of course my Dad. I wondered what attracted her to Dad. Hes not the best dresser and has a sense of awkwardness about him. Maybe she liked his bright green eyes and his cheeky smile. Maybe it was his sense of humour and his ability to communicate without saying anything. Maybe it was his straight to the point attitude in life (no doubt I have that trait!) One winter my Dad and mum went to Fuerteventura for a week. In a restaurant my Dad ordered fish, sole he said it was. It was tough and tasteless. My Dad lifted the fish off the plate and held it high addressing the waiter, Jesus Mary and St Joseph he bellowed to a full restaurant of on lookers- you call this fish sole? Its more like the sole of a shoe People laughed. My mum not at all embarrassed by this Irishmans directness. Thats your father she would say to me- if you grow up to be half the person he is- youll do fine Love you Mum & Dad JennS44 xx