I spend a lot of time at the airport. Unfortunately 80% of the time I’m not actually going anyway.

My Father splits his life between Essex and Florida you see, meaning that as The World’s Best Daughter I spend a lot of my life heading round the M25 to pick him up and drop him off at Heathrow.

The drop-offs are sad, I avoid them where I can. The churning in my stomach as I drive away from T5, knowing it will be months till I see him again, breaks my heart. The pick ups on the other hand, well they are a different story entirely.

We wait at arrivals, the girls holding the welcome home signs they have made, hearts pounding every time someone appears in the hope that it is him. The churning returns to my stomach, but this time it is of excitement, anticipation and pure love.

My Father and I haven’t had the easiest of relationships, growing he wasn’t around much, but that is in the past and all that matters is the future. He is the best Grandad the girls could ask for. They totally adore him. as do I.


Waiting at arrivals last Friday, seeing O run under the barrier and into her Grandad’s arms, and knowing, that for the first time EVER in my life, my Father will be eating Christmas dinner with me – well that was the best Christmas I present could ever receive. I am one lucky girl.

Welcome home Papa Essex.


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