My Dad Says

Did you know my grandad was the Blitz Milkman? My dad said it wasn’t easy having a propaganda icon for a father. I said that’s rich, since you were the original Milky Bar Kid. None of us are what we seem.

Of course, you are Googling fiercely now. By now you will know that the Blitz Milkman was fake news, although it wasn’t called that then. You will also know that no-one knows who it is, or was. And no, my dad wasn’t the Milky Bar Kid: he was one of those red-cheeked boys on knitting patterns for jumpers. The man at the end of the road used to follow him around. Creepy Collins they called him, until he moved away. My dad says.

He reckons things aren't the same. I nod my head when he says this. My dad has never used a computer or a mobile phone. He says he doesn't need to learn new stuff. It's hard enough remembering the old stuff. I say what's the point of that? My dad says someone has to.

My dad says he supports Tottenham. Then he tells me about Danny Blanchflower. I know Danny Blanchflower headed that ball too often too is what I tell myself. I say to Dad, oh yes, they were a great team in those days. It’s a pity he can’t see how good they are now. Other teams are better, I know, but I still look for the score when they play. Me and my dad used to watch the teleprinter and the bloke reading the classified results afterwards. Dad could do that bloke’s voice dead on.

I say all sorts of things. Like that my dad says anything at all, for example. Because sometimes propaganda, fake news, even lies are much more comfortable than the truth. Like the fact that if I’m sitting next to my dad, on the sofa with washable covers, I’m doing both sides of the conversation.