My Old Man

I don't think I've blipped him before, and if I haven't it is an absolute travesty. therefore for the concluding part of my camping trip I bring you my Dad.

I've blipped my Mumbefore, and I've extensively covered the great things she has done for me. I'm sure many of you are familiar with my little Bro's work. However this is the fourth member of my immediate family.

My Dad is married to a cracking woman called Mo whom has been in my life for over twenty years, 12 of which she has spent as my step mum. I don't like to refer to her as that though because she is much more than that. She is a friend and a voice of reason when the pictured man gets a face on. Anyway perhaps Mo will feature one day.

Back to my Dad. As you know I've been camping for three days with Dad, Mo and my cousin Daz and his lovely wife Tracey. Dad organised the little trip with Daz and I hijacked it in a bid to try and get some RnR in. Dad needed the same, he's been driving from Lincoln to Bedford every day on his own to work ten hours on a roller. I don't think I need to illustrate his industry anymore.

One word that describes him is 'grafter'. All my life he's worked his arse off to put food on the table (and the occasionally John Smiths through his lips). We didn't always see eye to eye growing up as my Dad is the stereotypical no-nonsense man and I tend to slide towards a little nonsense every now and again. These days though we are as solid as a six day old dog turd in the summer.

This weekend he has made me smile with his constant desire to look a bit like Delboy from Only Fools and Horses. He obviously lapped it up, wearing the hat and even pulling on a sheepskin lined anorak at one point. He didn't even draw the line at referring to Mo as 'Marlene', although we did point out that Raquel or 'Significant Other' might be more appropriate. He still loved it.

So there you have my pops. He can be a real arse sometimes (by his own admission) and we rarely agree whilst sat in the Stacey West stand on a matchday. However come rain or shine we are there, father and son, like chalk and cheese but also like two peas in a pod. I'm going for a week next year to Dawlish with him, Marlene (!) and my man mountain of a cousin Daz (see Saturdays blip which I'll shall put on after this) and Trace. I can already imagine what it will entail.

*Dad and Mo making up their own catchphrases
*Daz revving his van morning, noon and night and proclaiming the effeciency of running it on chipfat
*Me getting burned when I look at the moon

Bring t'on.

In other new I'm home and finally bathed. I've also realised the gravity of my current situation: come Friday my bank account drops to below zero and I have no reliable method of replenishing the supply of folding currency. I'm therefore going to sell my body.

First up: Toe clippings and a matching ginger hair set (top and tails). Any takers?