Daddy Time

It continued to pee down throughout Saturday night and it’s still very heavy when we rise early doors on Sunday morning.

I hope my footy match is on. Been looking forward to it all week and need a good run around to blow the cobwebs away.

“Your match won’t be on”, states William.

“Yes, it will.”

“No it won’t. It’s raining.”

“Yes, but its not that bad. Just a bit of drizzle.”

The wind-screen wipers are on full blast and I can hardly see a yard in front, as we drive carefully onwards. My decision to deliberately not look at the wet weather line and ground closures web-site was the right one. We’re going anyway.

The match will deffo be on

“Can we go home, daddy?” pleads Katy.

“Home? I’ve not played yet!”

“Match won’t be on.”

“Itsh raining” says Tom.

“Look guys, the game will be on. It’s not that wet!”

“No, it wont” snorts William.

“Yes it will!!!” I insist.

“Wont.”

“Look I don’t care if it’s on or off. I’m playing anyway!”

“Huh?” says Tom.

“You can’t play on your own”, says William.

“Yes I can and I will.”

“You don’t even have a ball.”

“Yes we do. Tom have you brought the ball?”

“Huh?”

“The ball. You know we always take the ball to football.”

“Nah. I didn’t bring it.”

“Oh, can we go home then?” asks Katy.

“No!”

“But you don’t even have a ball!”

“I don’t care. I don’t need one.”

“Can’t play football without a ball.”

“Well, I’ll buy one then. So there! Out of your inheritance.”

“Whatsh inheritansh?” asks Tom

“Something you guys are not getting. So just shhh and let me concentrate. The match will be on.”

“Won’t” says William.

I decide to let him have the last word rather than crash the car.

We’re playing the divisional champions today so should be a good game, even though it’s a “friendly”. One thing is guaranteed, no way are they winning.

And the match is on. The pitch is great and with the rain pelting down, really suits us Scots in the team, of whom we have three- or four, if you count Burnsy from Walthamstow. We have a comfortable 3-1 win.

Me winning a header whilst knocking over their centre half & then kicking no.4 in the nuts – takes years of practice

 

Burnsy asks kindly after the refs mother whilst Gordon suffers from terrible heartburn

Arrrrgh. That's better. Feel much more relaxed now and ready for the remainder of the day...

And it’s a good one too, as Gordon and Dora invite us all for dinner. Yep, even the kids.

Miaw-miaows isn't invited and rightly so. He’s done absolutely nothing but demand grub and Jenny’s chair at the table all week. She’s going to have trouble re-gaining that when she gets back.

Kids run off to another room to attack Gordy’s teenage children whilst him and I relax over a cheeky beer – watching the rugby league final.

Katy and William take over the rumpus room

Tom farts and the place is cleared. He’s very pleased with his efforts.

I ignore the screams, the bangs and the smashing glass from wherever the kids are as Dora assures me they are fine.

Dinner smells great and even better, I’m not cooking it.

When I say dinner, it was more of a blind date – for me.

Sensing that I was home alone for six months without a lady friend, my super hosts arranged for some hot chick in a bunny suit.

Wow, was she a looker.

Lovely soft brown hair, to die for eyes and even better, hardly said a word.

She nibbled my hand seductively between courses.

I was so gobsmacked I can’t even remember her name.

Seemingly she loved me and wants me round again this Saturday.

Unfortunately, I’ve had to decline as we’re off to see some Mermaids in Manly but no doubt I’ll call again soon.

It’s been a good day.

 

Connor carries William home: well, only the last 8 miles.