The Legend

My Dear Fellow,

A strange phenomenon. Amongst my friends, associates, workmates and even Er Indoors cousins - whenever I meet them one of the first things they invariably ask is after my dad.

Most of them have never even MET him. But he always comes up and they can't wait to hear about his latest adventure. German Andy, Aref the Iranian, Shetland Helen, "We LOVE your dad," they say.

It is testament to his charm I suppose. "I don't actually have a girlfriend at the moment," he told me last night. Almost a confession. He said he'd told an old friend this. She refused to believe him. "You've ALWAYS had someone," she said. "Ever since you were fourteen and probably before."

I get the distinct impression that my dad was one of those five year old boys who let girls look at his willy behind the bike sheds.

He told me he usually managed to keep his girlfriends apart. "But there was one time I had to leave one talking to me mum in the kitchen while I put another in the front room with me dad. Meanwhile I was chatting up another one at the front door."

As you know, at the age of 72 he still has a coterie of women who would do anything for him. The reason why isn't hard to see. He would do anything for them. He loves women. Actually my dad loves everyone, and everyone loves him right back. He's got a big heart, a naughty sense of humour and would give you the shirt off his back, unless you were taking the p1ss in which case you'd get told to eff off. But in a nice way.

I'm sure I have told you of the time Er Indoors and I took him to dinner. He went to the toilet and got waylaid by a large table of women on a hen night on the way back to our table. We looked to see what was keeping him and IN THOSE FIVE MINUTES he had charmed their entire table. When we left the restaurant later that evening they were banging the table and chanting his name.

Last night in Liverpool he regaled Er Indoors and Shetland Dad with tales of his youth. Including the story of the time he tried to smuggle a crate of beer into Sweden. This was to impress two Swedish girls who had invited him to a party when his Merchant Navy vessel was docked there. He especially liked one girl named Anna Something-Swedish. Unfortunately he was caught at the docks and fined, but managed to slip two cans of lager past the Swedish fuzz. Not much to take to a party but it would have to do.

"You know, just one can each and those two lasses were legless," he remembered. "I paid that bloody fine for nothing!" Ah, but it was worth it, it would seem.

Last night he seemed to drift away from Er Indoors and me for a moment. "Ah, Anna Something-Swedish," he sighed, "I haven't thought of her in YEARS."

He never forgets, and he's still full of love all these years later. I suspect if Anna Something-Swedish were to find him on Facebook she'd remember him with affection too. He is, as I stated, a phenomenon. He loves everyone and everyone loves him. From Iran to Shetland from Sweden to New Zealand. I actually think the world may not be big enough for the legend that is Tom.

El P.