Enjoy it mate. Something I used to do with my Dad as often as I could (Most Sundays in fact for several years) and now he's not there to go with somehow it's just not the same pleasure.
Bugger. Almost brought a tear to the eye that did. As much as I sometimes resented it dragging myself down to Hayling Island once a fortnight for years and taking the old bugger out for a Sunday lunch... dare I say, I miss it.
He'd misbehave; he'd piss himself before getting to the loo; he'd leer at the waitresses; he'd say the food wasn't up to much and then have a spotlessly clean plate; he'd smile and the kiddies and then make them cry adjusting his false teeth
We'd sit in the car watching the seagulls and the far distant ships listening to Any Answers on the radio. Then he'd say something like "That Tony Blair's a right tit isn't he?"
followed by "It's strange when you fire the ship's guns over the horizon because you can only see about 25 miles at sea because of the curvature of the earth..."
We've lost some good 'uns.
