I have not been writing about Father’s Day for a few years. Writing or not, it is always a day that warms my heart. This year not only a day for celebration, it is also a day that brings tremendous memory of my childhood days.

My son took me to a restaurant that in the first place we were completely unaware that many, many years ago it was a school I went to. A French restaurant by the name of Louise, well decorated with a very nice ambience though nothing extravagant. I felt very comfortable there the moment I stepped into the restaurant with a kind of feeling that I might have a sort of bond to it. The restaurant is annexed to a complex previously a police quarters for housing the police families. Apart from accommodation, there was a primary school attached to the quarters dedicated to the children living there. The police quarters together with the school is now turned into a heritage place with restaurants, shops and other attractions open to the public and tourists. You know what, I finished my primary 6 class in that school and judging from the location, I came to realize that the restaurant took up the space of the entrance to the school with a flight of stairs leading to the classrooms. What a nice surprise that after sixty something years I came back to visit my school and have lunch with my family on Father’s day.

Happily over lunch, I recalled with my son about those school days of mine and the fond memories of how I managed to make a long journey to the school every day, first by bus then ferry followed by a rather long uphill walk. Not only the chatting and the tasty lunch made my day, it was actually the memory of my beloved late father that warmed my heart most. If the timing was right, early in the morning when the sky was still dark, my father would leave home with me together and before we both got on the public bus, sometimes he would take me to a coffee shop near the bus stop for breakfast, one order for two. I still remember vividly how he shared with me half of a bun with butter, one of the two fried eggs, some oatmeal and some tea. Sometimes I still felt hungry after the breakfast but I had the thought that father would not have enough too but he was happy to share with me. I did not express this with Jeremy as he would not have understood that a lot of people in those days did not have the luxury of having breakfast in a restaurant, even a small one. He took me there was solely an action of paternal love. My dad was quite an abstained and quiet person. He would not say much but his actions always bore a lot of good recollections.

Talking about the lunch on that Father’s Day, I must say I am entirely satisfied with the food. Upon getting the check, I could not help exclaiming I savoured a most expensive chicken so far in my life. Have a guess how much it set us back!

 It was also a very lucky day too in terms of parking tickets. We drove two cars that afternoon, parked on the curb side due to private car parks were full, normal for a day like that. Upon exiting the restaurant Jeremy said perhaps we needed to add another few hundreds to the bill just paid. Two policemen were there issuing penalty tickets. I yelled, “let’s run” to get our cars away before our turn to get screwed. Both of us ran down the street quickly and it was just seconds before the policemen got to our car. We saved 640 dollars because we were alert and quick in action. Hurray! What a happy Father’s Day indeed!