There are two things I know for sure- One is- everything changes and the other is -my dad doesn’t change. Dad is currently running a battle with his new digi box and satellite dish that despite leaps in modern technology- it lets a tree distort its service. The satellite man told us that was the problem. This doesn’t salve dads temper and his need to argue about everything concerning his telly.
Dad calls me every day to use his new word ‘pixelated’ he wasn’t to know that since the 1940s there would be new words to insert into his vocabulary, he thought all the words had been invented- so did we- but what we didn’t know is the new words he discovered he would use more than the old ones. It is as if he needs to wear them around his dentures to get a good feel for them and then they will settle sufficiently into his mouth.
“I think that’s a Beta service we are getting as the picture is pixelated again, they need to experiment more with nanotechnology” he rattled on like that irritating middle aged hip presenter on BBC’s Click techno programme.
Dad likes to impress me with his latest garnered knowledge and usually calls me at 8am to tell me stuff. What he doesn’t know is that I had been up till 4am watching box sets of DVD’s and don’t want to be told about RFID- radio Frequency identification which is being used in license plates to identify and charge cars as they drive through Congestion Charged roads, toll bridges and toll roads, without them stopping. I don’t know where he gets all this info; he no longer has the web. We got that taken away before he tapped into NASA or kept wakening me up in foreign countries via Skype and not checking the time difference.
I think there is a bunch of wee old men dressed in elasticated slacks talking bollocks to each other in cafes and sharing information and then passing it onto their stunned and over tired kids. Why is he up at 7am? And what makes him think I am?
Despite my grumblings I love and adore my dad more than anyone can guess, of course I do.
He makes me laugh like nobody can, his quirky outlook on the world will always astound me and his adoration of Ashley knows no bounds. I cherish these days with my dad, knowing full well these days won’t last and there will be a day when he won’t call at 7am and that will be the day when I will sit and will it to ring.
So on that note, I am pleased to tell everyone that I am having a proper holiday this year. Me and Ashley are going off to British Columbia in Canada to a wee place called Salt Spring island. Husband hates travelling as a family and doesn’t want to come, and Ashley deserves a holiday after the whole month of work she done in Adelaide at the festival. We can’t believe we are going somewhere, getting off a plane and NOT going straight to a theatre to work or flyer or do press – just a holiday!
SSI is an amazing wee nature reserve/hippy enclave where my mate Sarah lives. We met in Toronto where she was working in comedy and she is just an awesome chick, she has organised crabbing as well for us, and am good at crabbing, though am not sure it’s the same one am thinking of. Ashley is inordinately excited about crabbing; I had no idea that she liked killing things with exoskeletons and eating them. Sarah is just amazing for having us both over. I am lucky to have nice people in my life eh?
That will be July sorted meanwhile this coming week I am in London and having a drinks party for my belated 50th at my fav club organised by my mate Monica. Am excited but worried, the last birthday party I had was in 1981 and my then brother in law sabotaged it and threatened everyone not to turn up and so I sat on my with a cake (hubby was working in the pub and was horrified to find me alone). I was 20 years old and confused as to why no guests came to my house. I gorged on cheese and pineapple and went to bed feeling stupid and hopeless with an unnatural fear of birthday parties. Am hoping this one will be better!