So when I happen to mention on the umpteenth re-run of the Royal Wedding the fact that 'Well....we paid for it' my father goes ballistic, pretty much reminding me of the old days when he would chase me around the house for wearing a fur coat before a party. My god the old boy's still got it in him! However, thankfully these days, meltdown is more easily diverted and he's soon over it, he is after all, a bit of an old, nearly blind, bull, and you have to love him for it.
Sunday, 1 May 2011
We made the mistake of visiting my parents on the same day as the Royal Wedding. I hadn't even thought of the possible consequence of this coincidence. However, it dawned pretty quick. My parents are in their late eighties, conservative, religious, patriotic and FERVENT. We...er...are not, actually the opposite, and such feelings are hard to mask no matter how we try in the quest for peace and harmony. I often feel sitting in my own parents house is just about the most uncomfortable thing that happens to me on an almost regular basis. Firstly I can't believe they created me, other than rationalizing all my consequent actions in terms of rebellion. I'm sure I'm hardly singular in this, but in our periodic and equally fervent escapes from the land of the perpetually perfect to the pub across the road, Julie and I agreed it was to do with the fact that we have invested so much time in 'critical thinking' (we criticize almost everything on a daily basis- and it's our job pretty much to do so) and my parents have done pretty much the opposite, they represent the perfect bourgeois, they delight in enjoying everything apart from criticism!