カレンウォーカーのインスタグラム(karen_walker) - 9月6日 04時10分

On the rare occasion that I smell tobacco on someone’s fingertips it immediately makes me think of my father, who was seldom out of reach of his Pall Malls. When I taste Campari I think of my Dad - he loved a Campari, though Scotch was his usual tipple - with the merest suggestion of a dash of water or, when his ulcers were making their presence felt, with milk - ugh. When I hear cricket commentary on a transistor radio I think of my dad; or anything by Glenn Miller - his musical taste never really got past his war years in the Air Force. He had a handlebar moustache that extended into huge sideburns and from there into a virtually nonexistent head of hair and a ‘70s sweep over that defied logic. Dad liked to potter about on his boat, fishing and doing cannonballs in some hitherto quiet bay of one of the Waitemetā’s islands. His taste in humour was basic, but then, it was the ‘70s, so it was The Bob Newhart Show, The Two Ronnies and The Benny Hill Show. I loved watching The Benny Hill Show with him - a strange thing for father and daughter to bond over, but seven-year-old me did find the sped-up chases hilarious. In summer, when it came time to light the barbecue, a very basic red tin drum that lasted a good 20 years, he’d stand next to it with a glass of Scotch in one hand and an old Teacher’s bottle full of kerosene in the other, douse the charcoal with either one and then throw his near-finished cigarette onto it causing an impressive fireball that would settle down to a steady flame that could efficiently cremate any sausage or steak that dared come near. Dad drove big cars. I recall his metallic purple Holden Statesman. It had electric windows. It was flash. Dad wore white shoes and wide ties and, in summer, a gold chain he’d bought in Nadi which popped against his perma-tan. He’d float about the pool on the lilo, falling off it with a dramatic splash when he needed cooling down or attention or both. He liked attention and was always the loudest voice at the party. I can’t remember any of his jokes or anecdotes now. I think I’d like to hear one.

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