Monday, November 28, 2011
sangria, broken down car & bus delivery to your door
Dad's gone back home. That was a quick, intense, angst-filled, funny couple of days. He's mad as a bag of wasps. Sometimes its funny.
He's somewhere in between Doha and Cape Town as we speak.
I feel the void and worry about my crazy Dad, even if we did barney during the week.
Some memorable moments of having Dad visit London:
When he poured another dude's gin and tonic in his own wine glass at a comedy club
He poured this random guy's drink into his glass of red wine, as he thought it was water. He also put a lime wedges in his red wine from my glass.
He made his own lethal sangria cocktail, using other people's drinks, at the table in a club, and got blind drunk as a result of this.
The Brit had to run off and buy the guy another drink, and all through this, Dad was oblivious to what was actually going on.
He also was also perfect heckler material, obvs. The comedians all took the piss out of Dad. Possibly because Dad announced loudly he was from 'Bethnal Green' as he arrived, and also accused one guy of looking 'Australian.'
Now that was funny. Him being ridiculously drink on gin and wine was not so much.
When the Brit's car battery died in the middle of Putney high street
Dad and I pushing the car to get it started, Dad screaming, 'RELEASE THE CLUTCH! RE-LEASE THE CLUTCH!" And two other dudes joining in to push, one with a fag hanging out of his mouth, the other clutching a glass of whisky and coke.
It was funny. But only after the car started.
When Dad had the bus driver drive him to the front door
Dad gave himself the week long project of finding a bus map for the whole of London. Despite my telling him this isn't possible, he finally found one for the area and insists he will frame it once he gets home.
When he got lost, the number 200 bus driver drove him directly to the door to drop him off. This is literally unheard of in London, having a red bus pull into the driveway. And yet he did it for Dad. Bless.
Having him visit was great for both me and my aunt. The Brit and my dad are firm friends it seems - how cool is that - they laugh at all each others jokes, and the Brit gets him. Which is more than I can say for myself.
For this I am truly fuckin' thankful. The Brit had to pick up a few pieces this week. Mine, mostly. He really is the bees knees. The fucking kindest, big-hearted boyfriend you'll find in the world. He doesn't read this, so I don't have to say this.
I do love him so.