Coeur de Lyon

So I've spent the best part of the last 72 hours with my Dad. It's been the longest amount of time we've probably spent together for 15 years, and I've found it quite tricky.

My Dad is 75 now. You don't need to be Carol Vorderman to realise my chain smoking father is likely to be on borrowed time. I've written about my family before, let's just say that childhood wasn't easy in my house and my Dad played a huge part in that.

The older I've got the more I've realised that my Dad's behaviour was mainly just learned behaviours from his own childhood, and that if you had a rubbish role model chances are you're not going to inherently know what being a good father means. This has caused me a lot of pain in the past, but I'm less likely to pay attention to it anymore.

My Dad is a man set in his ways. He knows what he likes, and has his set routines. It shocks him that I don't know what I want for breakfast tomorrow, and that I may not even want breakfast - life seems to be very black & white for him. Routine is psychologically comforting, so maybe it's my foolishness rather than his, but it seems brain numbing to me to pour a bowl of weetabix down your neck at 7am each day just because a habit persists.

A few weeks ago it became clear that I would need to come to Lyon for a long weekend for a work project. I haven't stop pinching myself since! I knew my boyfriend would be busy this weekend, and my Dad loves France, so I invited him to come with me.

We've been here a day and a half so far. There've been real highs and real lows. It's clear that living alone for so long has taken a real toll on his communication skills. He rarely talks to people, and when we converse he struggles to understand what I'm saying. He doesn't really listen to what I say, and had often pointed out something to me, that I'd shown to him a few minutes before. He asks me questions, and if I  know the answer calls me a'smart-arse'. If I'm honest it's draining and quite triggering of my mental health issues.

And yet the highs have been so lovely too. Earlier we rode on a big wheel looking out over the city, and climbed up a hill with breathtaking views over the river. It was only when we got tired that things turned a little darker.

Have I expected too much from his company? I'm certainly blaming myself for things bring difficult. But the good moments are worth the difficulties, and the likelihood is my rose tinted glasses will only remember the good times in a few months.

It's hard to know whether my Dad was always this slow or whether age has really taken him by surprise, but it's clear there won't be many opportunities like this ahead. So, as challenging as it is I'm going to try and park my ego, supercharge my patience, and try and relax into the rest of the weekend.