14 August 2005
Number One Son
Number one son turned up late yesterday. He works a fishing boat out of Eastbourne, but trained up in Grimsby - if that means anything to my Northern friends, well, he's had any vestiges of Southern Wuss beaten out of him and is now completely qualified to take the piss out of everybody else who goes slower than him, running round the deck doing press-ups and chin ups and pretending to fall asleep, waiting for another ton of crabs or lobster to be chucked his way. Adrenalin junky.
The picture is pre or early fishing days - he is much leaner now with outrageously disproportional arms and calves - a skinny, six-foot-something Popeye. It's becoming really rather hard to see skin from scar tissue on his forearms.
He seems to have grown up mentally, for his latest girlfriend, and is off to Tenerife this week with her family, having saved for something for the first time in his life. Every other time so far, the available cash has become more of a temptation than the original goal. Hurray, Andy can balance the books. Finally.
They leave at the crack of dawn on Tuesday morning so today they have already had a couple of panicked phone calls about shopping for sandals and shorts, and changing up the money, all of which he will have to do tomorrow, when she wanted to spend the day packing.
I guess its different for a girl, but all a bloke seems to need is one set of real clothes for lift off and touch down in England, half a dozen t shirts and pairs of swimming trunks or shorts, and a good pair of sandals, plus sunblock. A supermarket carrier bag, effectively.
Sunscreen and moisturiser are going to be the things he decides he won't need, I am sure of it. He never wears any of that on the boat, is as brown as a jar of coffee and toughened, but theres a difference between telling him the dry heat of Tenerife is not the wet heat of England (let alone the English sea spray) and getting him to appreciate it.
If he ends up shut in the villa with cracks and burns, I am certain she will kill him. I would.
Eeeh, its a scary and bittersweet thing watching your kids grow up, even from a distance.