He he. Father's visit was brief. He didn't take too kindly to the Brighton night life. Getting ID'd at the first pub didn't help. Then he sat in the corner clutching his pint and staring at all the people with funny hats and purple hair going 'absolutely love, this crack is rather moreish don't you think?' He didn't think much of that.
He calmed down a bit when we got to the restaurant. Until that is, my brother spotted two women straddling each other in a parked car just outside the window, and gave us a running commentary of their every action throughout the main course. 'She's got her hand down her top now', 'the blonde one's sticking her tongue in the other one's ear now'.
It was a beautiful family moment, as we sat watching the impromptu floor show over the thai green curry. My dad was in bed by half past ten that night, with a nice cup of camomile tea and some rather interesting memories.