The Pennines were awful tonight, In-Laws marginally less so. We arrived about 4pm yesterday afternoon to glorious sunshine, admired the new sun-room, Jack particulary impressed with the huge plasma screen adorning one wall, drank copious amounts of tea and then settled down to watch a naff Jim Carrey movie after a very edible Bolognese. The heavens opened, the drinks cabinet didn't!
I did sleep well though, Lisa does a very good line in bed-making.
Today dawned with menacing clouds and an even more worrying lack of response from Stephen to my calls. I figured he must have the hump for not having driven straight to his door but rather have the audacity to stay with his much more welcoming, chatty and sweet-smelling sister in her much more welcoming, comfy and sweet-smelling home. Jack was keen to go golfing despite threat of rain and I think he saw it as a potential way of actually enjoying some time with his Dad without fear of conversation desert.
Lisa took him off for a gruelling bike ride whilst I picked up a Sunday paper after dropping June off, I suspect they think I am a bit above myself for daring to choose the Sunday Times over The People, God forfane! Stephen eventually answered his phone and declared the golf a no-go as it would interrupt his enjoyment of the Grand Prix from the sumptious surroundings of his local "shithole" (as Jack later described it).
Jack, bless him, dutifully allowed himself to be driven down to meet his Dad, protesting that he would NOT go into the Pub! He came back after an hour or so having gone into the very same pub and played Darts with his Dad's targetly-challenged Mate's son. He later confessed that the extent of his conversation with his Dad amounted to them exchanging "Alright!", confessing to a rather spurious sadness at the departure of Michael Owen to Real Madrid, followed by an exchange that has convinced me that Jack is destined for the Diplomatic Corps!
Jack: I might be coming over at half-term.
Stephen: When's that?
J: End of October I think
S: Do you think you'll remember my birthday then? Do you know when it is?
J: thinks ( YOU HAVE GOT TO BE JOKING!!!! WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REMEMBERED MINE? ERMM - NEVER IN THE LAST 14 YEARS)
J: says Ermm - is it the 21st? Ermm -I'll certainly try, cough cough!
He was absolutely bursting to tell me the minute we got in the car and far enough out of earshot - I think we'd made it as far as Queensferry - perhaps I have been wrong to theorise that there is no coincidence in that the only time Jack or more usually I, ever get a call from Stephen is either on Fathers Day or his own birthday.
The highlights of an otherwise non-descript weekend included a fantastic underwear purchase - hipster lace shorts are my current preference; managing to navigate amidst fog-like spray from all the scary lorries on the M60; and a lovely call and follow-up texts from my Sunshine Man. I missed my TV debut - literally - it was edited out so it mattered not that I was mid-way between Oldham and Halifax as it went to air.
I did sleep well though, Lisa does a very good line in bed-making.
Today dawned with menacing clouds and an even more worrying lack of response from Stephen to my calls. I figured he must have the hump for not having driven straight to his door but rather have the audacity to stay with his much more welcoming, chatty and sweet-smelling sister in her much more welcoming, comfy and sweet-smelling home. Jack was keen to go golfing despite threat of rain and I think he saw it as a potential way of actually enjoying some time with his Dad without fear of conversation desert.
Lisa took him off for a gruelling bike ride whilst I picked up a Sunday paper after dropping June off, I suspect they think I am a bit above myself for daring to choose the Sunday Times over The People, God forfane! Stephen eventually answered his phone and declared the golf a no-go as it would interrupt his enjoyment of the Grand Prix from the sumptious surroundings of his local "shithole" (as Jack later described it).
Jack, bless him, dutifully allowed himself to be driven down to meet his Dad, protesting that he would NOT go into the Pub! He came back after an hour or so having gone into the very same pub and played Darts with his Dad's targetly-challenged Mate's son. He later confessed that the extent of his conversation with his Dad amounted to them exchanging "Alright!", confessing to a rather spurious sadness at the departure of Michael Owen to Real Madrid, followed by an exchange that has convinced me that Jack is destined for the Diplomatic Corps!
Jack: I might be coming over at half-term.
Stephen: When's that?
J: End of October I think
S: Do you think you'll remember my birthday then? Do you know when it is?
J: thinks ( YOU HAVE GOT TO BE JOKING!!!! WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REMEMBERED MINE? ERMM - NEVER IN THE LAST 14 YEARS)
J: says Ermm - is it the 21st? Ermm -I'll certainly try, cough cough!
He was absolutely bursting to tell me the minute we got in the car and far enough out of earshot - I think we'd made it as far as Queensferry - perhaps I have been wrong to theorise that there is no coincidence in that the only time Jack or more usually I, ever get a call from Stephen is either on Fathers Day or his own birthday.
The highlights of an otherwise non-descript weekend included a fantastic underwear purchase - hipster lace shorts are my current preference; managing to navigate amidst fog-like spray from all the scary lorries on the M60; and a lovely call and follow-up texts from my Sunshine Man. I missed my TV debut - literally - it was edited out so it mattered not that I was mid-way between Oldham and Halifax as it went to air.
posted by Cherrypie at 9:04 am
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