So big changes are afoot at English Towers. English Dad has been offered the job of his dreams. A job that he’s wanted for years. A job that he’s worked his butt off to qualify for. The perfect job, in fact? Well, no, because the job is based a long way away. This ‘perfect’ job will take him away from his family for long periods of time, and will be challenging and dangerous. Perfect? No. Good enough? Hell yes.
This seems to be a bit of a theme recently, this not-quite-perfection in everything…
Take last weekend – a press trip to Disneyland for me and the Death Wish Dude. We loved it. I’m happy that my travel writing is being taken seriously and I’m lucky enough to be invited to these amazing events. But a problem with an aircraft meant that English Dad ended up being stranded in Ireland, which left the Mad Professor on his own for the weekend. Our scatter-brained, clever, forgetful teenager, alone. Yes, he’s nearly 17, but a teenager? On his own for the whole weekend? Not great.
But do you know what? He survived. His Dad and I rang him often. His Grandad took him out for dinner, he spent one night with friends. And he was fine. He didn’t burn the house down, or have a massive party. He looked after himself and our home and he was trustworthy. Not a perfect situation, but hey, a good enough result I reckon.
And as the invitations continue to come in, I’ll continue to thank my lucky stars that I’m doing something I love, and that I’ve got my family – my so not perfect but definitely good enough family – to help me out with the odd bit of teenager watching.
I’ve got a keyring attached to my car keys. It’s a little chrome heart with the words ‘I love you’ written on it. I saw it in a little shop when I was with the boys. I mentioned to them that I’d love it if their Dad was romantic enough to buy me stuff like that (he’s just not the romantic type). Imagine my surprise, then, when I opened a box from him on my birthday to find that heart gleaming up at me. My boys had told their Dad about the heart and he’d gone and got it. Not maybe the spontaneous romantic gesture, but a wonderful team effort from all my lovely boys. I smile every time I look at it.
So you see – sometimes it just doesn’t matter if things are perfect. Just like the fact that I’ll never get the perfect photo of them in their school uniforms, because frankly they’re far too silly to ever pose properly for a photo, all that matters that it’s them. And they’re mine, and they’re fab. They’re good enough. And good enough’s what counts. Don’t you agree?