‘this is not a holiday camp you know!’
this was Dad’s favourite saying when we were growing up was
which he would say every time he found us not ‘working’… so every few minutes… however his concept of ‘holiday camp’ has changed a lot over the years, especially since he retired.
Okay mum and dad were heading interstate for a holiday…
Date: Sat, 4 Jun 2011 20:35:16 +1000
Subject: airport antics
- mum and dad go to maccas for breakfast so they didn’t dirty the kitchen
- they arrive at the home of Aunty Mod beeping the horn, they are half an hour early (and it is bloody early)
- ‘did we get you out of bed?’ the standard greeting no matter what time they arrive
- ready to go; then text from Aunty Verve saying ‘make sure you go in with them’ (aka doing an Aunty Lush)
- half an hour into the drive mum exclaims she has left her photo id at home
- when asked where ID was at home so I could get a scan to airport she says “I’m not telling you THAT” (reader reminder: she is my mother!)
- when parking the attendant tells me through window where to park, mum and dad BOTH enter conversation with attendant (reader note: they both still have strong Irish accent after 60 years in oz)
- mum and dad do cute ‘we don’t know what you are talking about’ to airport staff who allow them through without ID
- dad’s bag gets ‘pulled’ at security – turns out he has a pair of scissors in his bag!!
- dad orders beer at bar then explains he has been carrying those scissors for 50 years since he cut John Hughes hair – “do you remember Mary?”
- at various stages they both offer me money (for parking; for a muffin; for son or daughter; for return…) of course I don’t take it Aunty Darling!
- find gorgeous pictures of other Aunty’s children in Dads wallet… other Aunties – Aunties that aren’t right here…
- mum says I’m her favourite, she then waves me away as I try to get it on video
- waiting to board mum says “we can wait til last, then they will call us… “Will that beautiful woman in black coat and the old fucker with her please now board” (her words not mine)….
One of the Uncle’s was anointed to pick them up!!! I was exhausted…
oooh Mum never drops the f-bomb…liar liar, hot pants on fire 🙂
Well that’s true Aunty Beads, she doesn’t drop it, more like throws it… she did however say ‘fucker’. She loves to swear when Dad is there, it shocks him so. In any case swearing is our birth-rite as feisty young women of the Irish Variety…