Anthony McIntyreliterally imbibes the pleasure of Father's Day.

What makes Father's Day
As every day in this house seems to be Mother's Day, it is nice when my 1 in 365 comes around!

Last year my daughter made me this humongous fry that a family of four could have dined on for a week. It didn't last me that long, wolfed down long before it had time to go cold. Then again, having completed the Morning Star's 48 ounce steak challenge one evening in Belfast before going off to join my wife at a PJ Harvey concert - plus regarding the Harry Ramsden Fish & Chip Challenge as a starter - a large breakfast was never going to be a mountain I could not scale easily.

Changing Of The Guard
This year I had to make my own breakfast and settle for a video call from Dublin. My daughter had her own busy schedule today so was unable to make it up. She nevertheless did offer but I knew she would have been rushed so I spared her the journey. 

Sons being lazy dogs, my own didn't get up until mid day - still didn't do me any lunch. At least he didn't have the chutzpah to ask me to make his breakfast. He rolled out of bed in time to deny me the pleasure that Philip Boucher Hayes was so looking forward to before realising that his household was playing him:
 
Nobody in this house has remembered #FathersDay2021. Secretly delighted because the guilt trip I put them on at dinner tonight is going to be the most delicious gift ever.

My son's task was to hand out the prezzies and bestow his card upon me. He picked the most sarcastic one he could lay his hand on at the shop, a display of wit that acquires a new sharpness as each year passes. The choice of card changes as his appreciation of humour develops. The gifts were beard oil and cream - thankfully, he didn't slip any beard dye or darkener in to yank my chain, as he is fond of doing. Not that I can complain too much. I was always taken by a quip I heard about how sons think their fathers are not chill enough for modern living. It goes something like:
 
When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.

Earlier in the week my wife presented me - a few days early - with a man bag that I had my eye on. It is one of those multi-pocket ones that so grip me. Not in the sense of being a grip bag ...

Not that I know why: because I can never remember which pocket anything is placed in other than the Kindle, always at the back. Fortunately, bus drivers and cashiers at the shop till are much more patient than I am, and wait nonchalantly while the greying senior citizen in front of them rifles though the bag in search of the Leap or debit card, which always seem to be in the last pocket searched. And I mumble and fumble, like that old dog at the bottom of the stairs, unsure if it has just come down or is about to go up. 

With my kids, I have the freedom to what I am told. So, the instructions from Dublin were that I sup a beer from the Cheers Dad pint glass I was given in Dublin as a Father's Day gift last Monday. I was also told to drink a mocha out of the Liverpool Dad mug she gave me a couple of years back.
 
Changing Of The Card
Both dutifully and joyously done, the rest of the day will now be given over to soccer, beer, Tequila and the televised treachery of Livia Drusilla. Father's Day - the first political party advocating one a month is guaranteed my vote.  

 ⏩Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Father's Day 2021

Anthony McIntyreliterally imbibes the pleasure of Father's Day.

What makes Father's Day
As every day in this house seems to be Mother's Day, it is nice when my 1 in 365 comes around!

Last year my daughter made me this humongous fry that a family of four could have dined on for a week. It didn't last me that long, wolfed down long before it had time to go cold. Then again, having completed the Morning Star's 48 ounce steak challenge one evening in Belfast before going off to join my wife at a PJ Harvey concert - plus regarding the Harry Ramsden Fish & Chip Challenge as a starter - a large breakfast was never going to be a mountain I could not scale easily.

Changing Of The Guard
This year I had to make my own breakfast and settle for a video call from Dublin. My daughter had her own busy schedule today so was unable to make it up. She nevertheless did offer but I knew she would have been rushed so I spared her the journey. 

Sons being lazy dogs, my own didn't get up until mid day - still didn't do me any lunch. At least he didn't have the chutzpah to ask me to make his breakfast. He rolled out of bed in time to deny me the pleasure that Philip Boucher Hayes was so looking forward to before realising that his household was playing him:
 
Nobody in this house has remembered #FathersDay2021. Secretly delighted because the guilt trip I put them on at dinner tonight is going to be the most delicious gift ever.

My son's task was to hand out the prezzies and bestow his card upon me. He picked the most sarcastic one he could lay his hand on at the shop, a display of wit that acquires a new sharpness as each year passes. The choice of card changes as his appreciation of humour develops. The gifts were beard oil and cream - thankfully, he didn't slip any beard dye or darkener in to yank my chain, as he is fond of doing. Not that I can complain too much. I was always taken by a quip I heard about how sons think their fathers are not chill enough for modern living. It goes something like:
 
When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.

Earlier in the week my wife presented me - a few days early - with a man bag that I had my eye on. It is one of those multi-pocket ones that so grip me. Not in the sense of being a grip bag ...

Not that I know why: because I can never remember which pocket anything is placed in other than the Kindle, always at the back. Fortunately, bus drivers and cashiers at the shop till are much more patient than I am, and wait nonchalantly while the greying senior citizen in front of them rifles though the bag in search of the Leap or debit card, which always seem to be in the last pocket searched. And I mumble and fumble, like that old dog at the bottom of the stairs, unsure if it has just come down or is about to go up. 

With my kids, I have the freedom to what I am told. So, the instructions from Dublin were that I sup a beer from the Cheers Dad pint glass I was given in Dublin as a Father's Day gift last Monday. I was also told to drink a mocha out of the Liverpool Dad mug she gave me a couple of years back.
 
Changing Of The Card
Both dutifully and joyously done, the rest of the day will now be given over to soccer, beer, Tequila and the televised treachery of Livia Drusilla. Father's Day - the first political party advocating one a month is guaranteed my vote.  

 ⏩Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

2 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. I am an old dog by this state Wolfie!!

      My son and daughter liked the piece so I guess that alone makes it worth it!

      Hope you own day went well.

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