Happy Father's Day (and, yes, that's where I want the apostrophe)

Here in the UK, it's Father's Day. A friend and colleague has recently had a Facebook discussion on apostrophe placement in the above phrase. (I know it seems to be fashionable to have a 'rant' on Fb, but he's far too laid back to rant. It was definitely a discussion...). On Father's Day, I celebrate the fact that my dad is better than any others out there, so I want this to be HIS day. Even if he is in Italy and left his mobile phone at home, so I can't actually tell him how brilliant he is. He's always been a strong support to me. He sold his Trafalgar House shares to get me into a private Nursery Nursing college in Reading. When I left after a term because it was too posh and I didn't fit in (I didn't own horses and Daddy didn't have his own yacht - what a deprived child I was), he picked me up without complaint and took me home. I felt dreadfully ill on the journey as a term's worth of stress and bitchiness was left behind me, and he held my hair when I threw up in a lay-by and didn't mind when I cried my eyes out for the next fifty miles, feeling a hopeless failure. Thanks Dad. I know you've done many other brilliant things, but that journey sticks in my mind as being one where you made me feel loved again. 

Today is also my wedding anniversary. I've been married 23 years today, and there's another thanks I have to say. The Husband has stayed by my side through good and bad. I've had bouts of depression, when I must have been hell to live with, but he was always more than supportive. He's been a brilliant dad himself, and hasn't repeated the mistakes that gave him a rather unhappy childhood. He supports me through whatever inexplicable phase I decide to go through next, even if he predicts I'm heading for disaster (and then he helps me pick up the pieces with no 'Told you so'). Thanks, Mister. 

And he knows me so well that, instead of flowers and chocolates, he's bought me a big bottle of malt whisky. Cheers!