Julie went to a party on saturday. She went ice skating in east kilbride and my dad decided to kick about until it was time to pick her up. I just remembered I haven't told anyone this story. For some reason he decided to explain, in some detail, what the shopping centre was like, ignoring the fact that until I was like 13 or 14 I spent every weekend there, watching shit films and buying tacky junk. Even after that I had a friend who preferred going there to going to town so we had many an after school jaunt. I informed my father of this and he gave me a look of disgust. He then said when he returned home and told my mum about his experience he said the following:
"If I'm dying in East Kilbride, please take me somewhere else, anywhere else."
He then told us about some shop he ended up in.
"I don't know if you've heard of it. Holland and Barratt?"
I told him that the shop was indeed well-known. They had adverts on the tv and everything. In fact I almost got a job there once but bad luck prevailed.
Apparently the prices in there are disgustingly high. A fact he complained about for most of the walk to Parkhead. Yes, my dad and his mate were bemoaning the prices of complementary therapy and supplements whilst walking through a rabble Celtic fans who were trying desperately to get as drunk as possible before the early kick off.
Sometimes I just wanna hug him.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment