dad
ah Father. we’re a dysfunctional pair are we not?
we last hung out a couple of days before new years.
and only now did we finally get round to having another nice evening out just the two of us.
we drank lots of cider (I on halves, you on full pints) we discussed romany gypsies and family deaths and I cried a little bit. just subtle trails of tears. but I know you noticed. and you delved into little anecdotes and advice learnt from the woman you had an affair with. “always carry with you $250 with you for your ‘trouble fund’” are your words of advice before my big trip to the US. and it was lovely, we ate steak and then went to listen to a one man jazz band in the local institution. and I looked about at the walls, where framed pictures paid tribute to Ella Fitzgerald and Charlie Parker and I was filled with sudden pangs of anticipation and excitement to experience similar Jazz, or more likely better, in New Orleans.
Dad, you may have been won over by capitalism. you spend your days selling windows on finance instead of painting pictures of trees and photographing roadkill (like you used to) but you’re still my Dad and I still love you. See you soon.
