Yes, you guessed it - In the name of Thiago - Day 124



For much of my life, I seem to have lived in the shadow of my father. Dad had his own business, didn’t seem to have much time for us kids growing up – that was very much mum’s bag. He was, as they say, a provider. Dad was a very capable and practical man and to some extent still is the latter. He just wasn't always particularly motivated by things that didn't necessarily fall within his immediate field of interest.



But now as we near the date of him exchanging on his new gaff, which is just a 15 minute drive from me, he is continuing to give openly and generously by way of material for my daily blog. Thank you Dad!

Well the latest with the cooker is that it’s very much staying at his new house, because as my sister Holly overheard him say the other day, Angelica is desperate for it. Putting my wife’s desperation to one side, I was heartened by the last line of an email I received from the old man today, which said ‘still ‘tis done and dusted now’. He was referring to this tragically unloved cooker.

However, having made a further £100 donation to the fundraising pot only yesterday, on the proviso that the two ladies selling the house be credited as having chipped in, Dad also mentioned in his mail today that they wanted nothing to do with this ridiculous charade.



He wrote: “I find it hard to believe that 50 quid could be the cause of the anguished bleating that my conveyancing people were apparently treated to when I made my offer”. How can I put this Dad, they don’t know me, they don’t give a shit, why should they give a shit about someone they know nothing about? So the synopsis is that after all that, Dad still has to pay them £50 for the cooker. But that’s ok because Angelica needs it desperately!

If it wasn’t for lockdown and with the tips starting to open again, I’d be tempted to drive round a few of them and collect some of the more smashed up looking cookers and plant them in ominous fashion on his new front garden as if they were re-enacting something out of The Day of the fucking Triffids.  I still wonder whether there will in fact be a late twist in this dramatic saga. I hope not because the bastard will be back with me by then.




I virtually laughed myself to sleep last night. Poor Angelica, she despairs of these late night laughing fits I have. I think it’s the general madness of lockdown that gets me, maybe I am starting to go a little stir crazy. The Irish fella who’s on 5 live late at night was talking about a Glaswegian version of the Dolmio ads and having flicked idly through them I ended up on Scottish Pingu. It’s started making the chuckles return again just writing that now.

It was all coming back to me again tonight during my virtual yoga class and I just completely lost my shit as all I could think about was that little Scottish penguin saying ‘I’m pishing everywhere’.

Time to adjourn I think. If you haven’t donated but would like to, this is the place to do it. I’m off for a well-deserved sherbert. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Getting through the pain - In the name of Thiago - Day 1

Up and running - In the name of Thiago - Day 5

Plumbing the depths - In the name of Thiago - Day 11