The Old Man

As mentioned in my previous post, i spent a week with the old man, otherwise known as 'Dad'. Early records hint that "Dad" is actually a social title, rather than his actual name, although i have not really done much research into this area. One record i stumbled across whilst nosing through a drawer said that Dad's name is actually Mark, however i have been unable to verify the authenticity of the document - it was an Australian passport after all, you know what those Aussies are like.

Of course that makes me part Australian as well, but you already know what I'm like. Bit of back story for anyone who doesn't know anything about my life, mum and dad split up when i was about 2 and i would go see him about once a month. Its less regularly now that I'm all "grown up" and all, but i try my best. Its kind of surreal, my relationship with my dad, I'm not sure how to define it. Out of the 365 days in the year, on an average yearly basis i see him for less then a quarter of that, bar the phone conversation we have once a week.

He's a very funny man my Dad, I've realised. His sense of humour is just like mine, just more refined. Especially after a drink. For example, here is a "Dadism" that the man himself spoke whilst we were talking about an old Charity he used to work for (where he met my mum as it happens):

"Charity work, it's a lot slaughtering the Muslims back in the crusades - you've just got to have a certain drive for it, a calling"

Probably the best analogy I've heard. Ever.

Another good Dadism was in relation to someone my dad knew, a guy called Andrew:

"He was born in the wrong century; he's the sibling that you don't know what to do with, so you send him away to some newly discovered land to collect beetles, so that when he finally returns, your so near death you don't have to care anymore."

He has a point, Andrew is one of the February Holiday goers, so is naturally mad as a hatter. He comes he sees, he leaves. He's also probably the last remaining "upper class" person in existence. This guy makes the queen look like an Essex Blonde, and he's Anglican, splitters!

Anyway, my dad - funny guy. I'm glad it's his sense of humour I've got, not glad that I've got is receding hairline however. Not cool. I've always wondered what my life would of been like if my Mum and Dad hadn't split. Oh well........shit! two weeks have gone by and I've done one unit of Shorthand....this is bad. Ciao.