My late great dad, used to tell people: “Don’t sweat the small stuff” and to: “Keep Kool Kat.”

Yet his colourful Cockney banter, fell upon deaf ears – back when I was a kid. Like many people, I was distracted by his flamboyance, and stories about his childhood. The daddy with a giant Cartier earing, that as a toddler I could put my little fist through, and his glistening golden front teeth that were like a kaleidoscope.

When I started school, I recall wondering why nobody else had a bejeweled dad!

He would proffer his advice, but I’d simply sit on his lap, mesmerized by the charm and fun that he exuded in equal measures. He included loads of tickles and jokes. They were my reward for squeezing his hand, with my Poorly Hand – that is what he called it. He was always vigilant about his quirky exercise routine with me, and he never mocked me, like mum: –

“Gis us ya camber me darlin, nah, don’t sod about, use yer Poorly one. Now squeeze me ‘and ‘ard as ya can – ‘n concentrate. Look right in me minces, ‘n keep a straight boat. You need to be strong – like ya ole man, remember!”

That was his regular routine right ‘til my adulthood…

And, when we later strutted around Soho, me high up on his shoulders, patting his head- I witnessed first-hand, how other people reacted around him.

He may well have been the founding chairman, of the biggest professional photo lab in Europe and with Rockstar charisma, but he had time for anyone and everyone.  All sorts of random people, he either knew, or didn’t, would bound up to us…and they often seemed busy and flustered, but no one wanted to rush – off either.

I’d watch down, with a glorious popping candy sensation in my tummy; a sweet mix of pride perplex and amusement. I could not understand why the suited people, worried and fidgeted, flayed their arms, then clasped their hands up to him after. They’d all leave with toothy grins and giggles.

“You just gotta Keep Kool Kaaaaat, n don’t sweat the small stuff!” He’d surmise.

It was only with hindsight that I realised that these people were often other professionals.

They did not have daddy’s coolness. They did not swagger as they walked, and they were often full of woe and worries. Yet, most of them, I had figured – probably had mummies who had helped shape them: kit them out with cake cloth and cuddles; and surely start- off their self-belief jar: – when they were kids -with shiny pennies, to commend good grades… Not like daddy.

I wonder how many knew of dad’s upbringing, as they chatted in awe with him. But he would have none of it, immediately making everyone feel at ease with him. And, as we had stood on busy Wardour Street: the flurry of passers-by, and the staring and sometimes gasping. Because, in the early seventies, for a man to wear an earring was rare, let alone a two-inch shiny hoop. I always wondered what the people thought of him; especially as he called himself: Gypsy Joe Andrews.

He told me that he had been too proud to beg, would look for pavement shrapnel in the tube stations instead and pick up half- rotten fruit: if the mean stall holder had not given him sufficient to buy food with. The abandoned baby, who later had fled the abusive childrens’ home…  Plus, he was saving- up for a camera. He knew in his apple; it would one day make him lots of bees…

Everything dad achieved was down to sheer hard work, and thankfully in the rare times mother let us see him: he bestowed tough love on his kids.

As we learn to glow from within, despite our challenges and problems; we grow more consciously aware. We must be greedy and mindful, and lap up our authentic new petals of ourselves, as though we too are gathering up pennies, or shrapnel on the streets.

For our personal growth is full of unique energy, and we should dare to be our individual selves. And however tough life gets, we must try to keep kool kat and do not amplify your problems. Don’t sweat the small stuff either!

 

I hope you find this helpful. SUNNY wishes, Emma x