Turns Out I’m a Daddy’s Girl After All


I love my papa.

He’s a gentle soul, a quiet achiever and music buff. Nothing makes him happier than a great meal, an excellent glass of red and countless hours in his music room, perusing his impressive record collection.

Neither Alistair or myself have lived with him for several years, and due to Melissa’s political commitments they are often travelling or busy with functions. This means I don’t get to spend a great deal of time with my Dad, but it does make those fortnightly (sometimes monthly – woops!) catch ups extra special.

With Andrew in Melbourne, and Melissa coming home late from Canberra, I took the opportunity to invite my Dad around for dinner last night. I must admit I was pretty intimidated to cook for him, he’s one of the best cooks I know and takes great pride in his food. I needn’t have worried though – he loved it all. Honestly, I think it was one of the best nights we’ve spent together. He brought around a bottle of wine, I cooked Spanish fish stew (which he’s told me he can’t ever have at home – Melissa doesn’t like it) and we chatted; for hours.

Dad and I have always gotten along, but there have been times, especially growing up, where I found him frustrating or didn’t understand where his thoughts were coming from. It’s so interesting to see how our relationship has changed as I’m growing up. I no longer feel the need to change him; I appreciate his good qualities, and forgive him for his minor flaws – just as he has done for me my whole life.


After he drove away, I shut the door behind him and noticed the smile on my face. I’m lucky to have this man in my life, and I’m even more lucky to have finally realised that.

I always thought I was exactly like my Mum. I look more like her, we speak the same way and use the same gestures.
Lately, though I’m realising how much I take after theĀ first man in my life. And you know… I don’t mind it at all.