The Uniqueness that is my Father

Having written about my father before and decided it was great material, I went to dinner at his place on Saturday anticpating further excellent blog fodder. And I wasn't disappointed.

Dad: This oven. These potatoes are taking forever! And last nights meatballs were the same! GRRR! BLOODY OVEN!!!
Me: You've got it turned to Grill, you big twat.

Dad: The English Patient. What was it about again?
Me (slightly in my cups) : *talks for 10 minutes about the English Patient ending with* and then all this shit went down.
Dad: And then all this shit went down. I'm sure Anthony Minghella would love to hear it described thus?

Me: Can we listen to your mixed tapes that accompanied all our car trips when we were kids?
Dad: *happily trundles off and puts one on*
Me: I can't believe we had to listen to Leonard Cohen. Most families have to endure the Wiggles.
Dad: But now you've got great taste in music!
Me: Touche.
Dad: Let's put on Godley and Creme - Cry.
Me: I love that song!
Dad's girlfriend: Can we listen to the Rose?
Us: *ignore*

Me: I'm going to do our family tree. Who were Grandpa's parents?
Dad: ....
Me: okay....how did Grandpa spell his name? Alasta-i-r? or Alist-e-r?
Dad: .....
Me: Should I be asking Grandma? (who is 92 and sometimes thinks I'm her daughter)
Dad: Yes.

Me: Did you know that you have sunscreen in your bathroom cupboard that expired in 1997?
Dad: I don’t use sunscreen. I have natural oils that protect me (Dad comes from Scottish heritage).
Me: No wonder I’m addicted to tanning. It’s your fault if I get a melanoma.
Dad: *shrug*

Me: Did you get the Sunday paper?
Dad: No. I already know most of what’s in there, and everything else isn’t worth knowing.


Vintage Dad. It was fun.