Like father, like son

The plan was simple.

The plan was, go out, grab a bite to eat, meet dad who was in town with work for a couple of pints, leave him to get a good nights kip before his meeting the next day, go on to a few other drinking establishments & end the night in a taxi clutching a polystyrine box with a wooden chip fork stabbed in to the top. That was the plan.

Quite why I found myself in a nightclub at 2am this morning, dancing to reggae music, WITH MY DAD, I cannot say.

My dad is cool. You may have worked that one out already, but he really is. He's also a very interesting character. An electrician by trade, he's had spells as an antiques dealer, a roadie (just for one gig, granted, but Fleetwood Mac were headlining, so...), and once wired up a nightclub belonging to two gentlemen of such ill-repute they appeared on a Panorama special entitled 'London's Untouchables'.

He's from London you see, but moved to west Wales when he married mum and decided they would live the 'Good Life' and become self sufficient. Where Richard Briers and Felicity Kendall succeeded, dad failed miserably. But he gave it a good go, and I still have fond memories of waking up as a child to the sound of him swearing at the pigs, looking out the window and seeing them rolling around in the pond to get cool in the summer sun, then running back through the same hole they'd dug to escape their pen before my dad could catch them.

He goes to the same pub as AC/DC's road manager. He's hoping to get us tickets for their tour. He also regularly shares a cigarette outside that same pub with Charles Bronson's mother. Like I said, he's cool, my dad.

We have a great relationship in that he's more of a mate than 'dad'. I can talk to him as a friend, and I don't need to keep anything from him for fear of disappointing him or getting told off. If he did disapprove of anything I'd done he'd just call me a 'tosser', impart some much-needed advice, and we'd move on.

So, that's why when we were bobbing up and down to the strains of Toots and the Maytals early this morning I wasn't embarrassed at all. I was quite proud actually.


PS Dad's just phoned me in the middle of writing this post. His meeting was 'a load of old crap'. He got up at 6.30am this morning, had a fried breakfast and two cans of coke and felt 'fine'. I've just called him a bastard because I feel terrible. He's told me I'm a lightweight. He also said that club was good fun and the music was great. We're going again next time apparently...

PPS A treat for reggae fans. I'm never going to be able to listen to this song in the same way ever again...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7aNFEWbdBA