Chinese Takeaway

It is three years today since my Dad died.

In so many ways it's still so hard. Some things have got easier, the coping day-to-day with the loss, but when the pain hits, it still hits just as hard as ever.

The more photography I do, the sadder I feel that I can't share it with him. When I discover a great new recipe or learn an obscure piece of vocabulary, he's the one I want to tell.

Tonight I got a Chinese takeaway. Dad was a great cook, and when cooking foreign food he always strove for authenticity. He wanted to make Indian food like people in India make it, make Thai food like people in Thailand make it. Similarly when he was eating out, he wanted to go to the curry houses that the local Asian population ate at. When he did some work in Lahore in Pakistan, he avoided the tourist food places and instead found where the locals ate out.

So whenever I go in the takeaway I went to tonight, I think of him because it is very popular with Chinese students. This suggests authenticity. And they have a menu in mandarin on the wall, which is clearly different from the English language menu because of the number of items, and the prices. Whenever I'm in there I imagine my Dad asking the guy who runs it what's different about the Chinese-language menu, what makes those items more popular with the students and others from China, which item was most popular with the Chinese guests, and could he please have that. I smiled as I imagined being faintly embarrassed by all of this, too.

As it was, my takeaway tonight was as inauthentic as it gets - chop suey and chips, both as rooted in the West as is possible. And tasty it was, too.

I miss him. Painfully, frequently and deeply.


NaBloPoMo

Not really ok

It's a year today since Helen died.

Well, probably. The inquest couldn't give an exact date, they gave a week's time span, but from the evidence given I do think it was the 3rd.

I miss her every day. Every day. But today feels even worse. I feel weighed down with sadness.

Funerals and Words.

Where's my banner gone?!

Z and I went to Helen's funeral this morning. It was pretty harrowing, and the minister talking of new hope in God, and of Helen's demons was really not, NOT, appropriate for me. I actually wanted to shout at him several times, but of course didn't.

It wasn't just him, of course, that made it awful. The fact that we were at the funeral of such a good friend was the worst thing. She was too young, too kind, too funny, too... And she's gone. There's nothing like a coffin to bring that home with a punch to the stomach.

A few cans of Stella, too many cigarettes and a film have helped me through the evening. I just want the day to end now really.

In other news, according to Gender Genie, my Le Pen blog entry is female, my entry about Helen is female, my entry about Charliegrrl and bullying is male, and my sexual violence is terrorism entry is male. My entry about the Park Hill murder is male, my letter to John O is male, Sheffield women, avoid this man! is female, and Visit from Auntie Flo was male (obviously! Complaining about his period pain!).

It's all about the words you use in your writing, and whether those words are more likely to be written by men or women. My results are clearly ambiguous, to say the least!

I think what this tells us is that their algorithm isn't quite up to scratch, that longer entries tend to be written by men, and that women aren't allowed to be angry. I'm so often angry! And I'm most certainly a woman.

Potentially interesting experiment there at gender genie, just a bit flawed in practice.

One of my best friends has died. She was found on Monday and probably killed herself some time last week or at the weekend.

I am devastated and stunned. Don't know what to do with myself.

I found out on Wednesday, after much detective work by me and others, when we were really worried at not having been able to contact her for a while.

Rest in peace, Helen. I hope where you are now is better than where you were then.