Pig Face Weekends (1978)

I don't have many memories of my Dad.

My parents divorced when I was 4 and by the time I was 7, it was decided that I should stop seeing him.

Mam had a new bloke. Dad had re-married and was starting a whole new family - so it seemed like a clean break was for the best. 

And it probably was for the best - if you were one of the 'grown-ups'. 

Sharing custody, having to deal with your ex - it was too much hassle and there was still so much bitterness about the way their marriage ended. My parents couldn't set any of that aside and at least pretend to be civil for the sake of their kids.

They never did.

 My Dad went through the whole process again with his second family a few years later. That made me feel a bit better. It wasn't just me! It wasn't my fault! He did it all over again to some more little kids!

Bloody hell, Dad.

Years and years later I had the chance to ask him about it. I asked him why he hadn't fought or made more of an effort to keep in touch with any of his kids - but he didn't want to talk about it. He said he wanted to 'Iook ahead' because 'looking back was pointless and repetitive and brought up too many harmful emotions'.

I thought that was a cop out.

So we stopped talking.

Again.

I don't really remember a time when Mam and Dad were together. There are a few photographs of a family holiday in the Lake District and day trips to Flamingo Land but I was just a toddler. 

I do remember the day they told us about the divorce. I said I wanted to go and live with Dad. It was never going to be an option, but maybe Mam never forgave me for saying it. 

To start with, he had to stay in a dormitory upstairs at Durham Police Station. He was a copper and the 'job' looked after him in his moment of need. I remember seeing his bunk bed and thinking how lucky he was - I'd always wanted bunk beds. 

It was actually a pretty grim existence for him - he'd had to move out of our family home because Mam had met somebody new. Dad couldn't sort himself out with a flat straight away so he had to stay in the single men's accomodation at the Police Station.

I have a vivid memory of him searching through his bags for a present he'd bought - a Star Wars badge. Dad couldn't give me the badge without making a joke - he said Mam's new bloke was the double of Chewbacca.

 

 Dad did find his own place. It was a ground floor flat in the Newton Hall area of Durham. He'd tell me about the plans he had for the garden - how we'd have a pond, football posts, a climbing frame... 

I never saw any of that happen. 

Dad did have the fridge freezer and sofa that he'd 'won' in the divorce settlement and it was weird to see those familiar things in a strange new place. The flat had that strong smell of new carpets and the walls were plain, white and bare.

 Dad would pick me (and my older brother) up every Saturday morning. I remember so many songs from that time. Maybe he always had the radio on during those car journeys so he didn't have to talk so much. For years afterwards I couldn't hear 'Mr Blue Sky' by ELO, 'Baker Street' by Gerry Rafferty or Billy Joel's 'My Life' without being reminded of those car journeys or those afternoons at his flat.

I think he was quite an emotional man. His eyes would get watery and his voice would become slightly higher pitched when he dropped us off on a Sunday evening. We'd get out of the car and he'd call us back for one more hug. Is that why he had to back away? Didn't he like how emotional he was becoming?

Weekends with Dad usually meant a trip to the cinema or the swimming baths and time spent with our Grandparents in South Shields. It's a bit of a blur, to be honest. The Cat From Outer Space, Sinbad & The Eye of the Tiger, The Wilderness Family, The Call of the Wild - big screen adventures in South Shields, Sunderland or Durham. 

There was usually excitement about the possibility of winning the Pools as the Football results were read out on the TV on a Saturday afternoon. And then it would be The Pink Panther Show or Basil Brush and Doctor Who. 

Sometimes, if Dad was 'going out with a new friend' on a Saturday evening our Grandparents would let us stay up a bit later to watch Starsky & Hutch. 

All of those Saturday nights at my Grandparents house are rolled into one big memory; sausage, beans and chips on blue patterned plates in front of the telly - a mirror set in a spiky, star shaped frame - an exotic, green and yellow bar with a soda siphon. It's not a lot to hold on to.

Back at Dad's flat we'd sometimes sit and play on the living room floor. I had my first Star Wars toys - figures of my favourite characters; Han Solo and Chewbacca. He'd bought me the figures but Dad didn't think the Death Star playset was worth the money so we made our own out of cardboard boxes.

That's a good memory, I suppose - seeing Star Wars at the pictures with Dad and then playing with the toys in his new flat. And there'd always be music playing; maybe Jeff Wayne's 'War of the Worlds' or ELO's 'Out of the Blue' album. 

I was 4 when we started this routine and I just accepted it. I thought every kid had divorced parents and I'd get a shock if I went into a friends house and both of their parents were there at the same time. 

And when I stopped seeing Dad I just accepted that too. I still don't know how. I worshipped my Dad. 

We weren't allowed to mention his name or talk about Dad at home in case we upset Mam and her new bloke. We called Dad 'Pig Face' - it was like a codename my brother and I had to use. I loved my Dad but I was terrified of upsetting Mam. 

'Have you heard from Pig Face?'

'Did Pig Face send you a birthday card?'

'Do you think Pig Face will take us to see The Empire Strikes Back?'

 The answer to these and many other questions was always 'no'.

Once or twice Dad/'Pig Face' turned up at school open evenings for my brother, but he never spoke to me.

 A lot of those songs from the late 70s took on a different meaning for me. 

When Leo Sayer sang 'When I Need You' on The Muppet Show I didn't hear it as a romantic song about an absent lover. 

The words "when I need you, I just close my eyes and I'm with you..." made me think it was a song about a kid missing their Dad.

After I stopped seeing Dad, 'I Will Survive' by Gloria Gaynor also seemed to take on a new meaning; "Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye?"

My memories are swamped by the music and the TV shows from that time. As an adult I bought every Doctor Who, Muppet Show and Starsky & Hutch DVD, as well as compilation albums of classic hits from the late 70s. I went back to them over and over again, trying to piece together better memories with theme tunes and pop songs. 

Looking back on it all now, it just makes me feel a bit sad. I have half-brothers and sisters, countless cousins, Aunties and Uncles that I never got to know. 

My parents operated a scorched Earth policy - if somebody wasn't part of your life every day then they might as well be dead and they could easily be replaced by new people. 

I don't suppose they thought about the long term damage they just seemed to be obsessed with being the 'winner' in our sad family break up. Who could move on to a new relationship the fastest? Who would have more money or a bigger house? But nobody seemed to compete to be a better parent. They behaved more like spiteful kids. But I guess they were just kids.

My parents got married in their teens and never seemed to finish growing up before they had to deal with babies, work, family life and then... a divorce. I can't say I'd have done a better job if I'd started a family at the age of 16.

Dad died last year.

I only found out because a friend spotted his obituary on a Facebook page for retired North Eastern Police. 

He'd been ill for a while and must have known he was dying but he never tried to contact any of his kids or grand-kids. I did feel a bit bad for him. Did he think some of us would send nasty messages or turn up at the hospital to gloat?

It was a bit weird seeing dozen of comments on that Facebook post - so many people he'd worked with, describing him as a 'top bloke', 'an old-fashioned, hard-working copper', and a 'brilliant boss'. 

Some people even sent best wishes and condolences to 'his family at this difficult time'.

I thought about leaving a comment but decided not to. I didn't really know him. And grief isn't a competition.

Dad didn't have a funeral - he took the 'Pure Cremation' route so there was no service, no get-togethers, no awkward family reunions... Maybe he was worried nobody would show up. Or maybe his third wife was worried that everybody would show up. Whatever the reason, I think he made the right decision.

I've got one last musical memory from the late 70s. When 'Hit Me With Your Rythmn Stick' by Ian Dury & The Blockheads was in the charts I asked Dad if he'd please buy me the single. I loved that song, but Dad didn't want me to have it. It was the 'wrong sort' of record for a five year old to be listening to. So he bought me 'Bright Eyes' by Art Garfunkel instead.