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Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Porky Pinky

                       How relaxed do I look?

I know I’ve written about how Scotto and I intend retiring to a farm on Mt Tamborine and providing a home to a zillion Chihuahuas when we get older, but there is another vision I store in my head, 'the ideal fantasy scenario of our golden years'.

Imagine a Christmas table adorned with food and wine; each seat around the table filled with my five children and their laughing spouses.

Picture a fat, jolly Pinky wearing a nasty bathing suit three sizes too small and a portly, Santa-hat clad Scotto, lolling around on floating beds in the pool, hedonistically sipping champagne and playfully splashing the dozen or so grandchildren.

Sort of like the Waltons but without American accents or the unappealing overalls.

Bear in mind, this is my dream, not necessarily Scotto’s.

But Pinky! You’ll have four daughters-in-law and a son-in-law. You don’t think there might be a chance of conflict in the equation? I hear you chortle cruelly.

Let’s just say I’m optimistic.

Last night we escorted Lulu and her boyfriend to dinner for her birthday. Longboards on the Strand was her restaurant of choice and we had a great night dining and celebrating whilst overlooking the twinkling Cleveland Bay and chatting to the gorgeous, conversant, well-mannered and easy-going Jock.

                             Jock and Lulu

What with Hagar’s adorable girlfriend, Meggles and Lulu’s boyfriend Jock, things are pointing to the possibility that my kids have damn good taste. If they keep it up then my idealistic hopes for joyous and crowded family celebrations are not such a fanciful prospect after all.

Lulu was her usual domineering self all night but we managed to get our own back by ordering a surprise chocolate fondue with sparklers and raucously sang happy birthday to her intense shame and embarrassment.

Like most rugby players Jock has a great appetite

“Leave that bedroom door open, Lulu!” I cautioned after we arrived home and she and Jock were about to head upstairs.

“What do you think we’re going to do Mum? Make babies or something? Do you want a grandson or a granddaughter???
” she demanded dictatorially, as poor, stunned Jock stood stock still with a mortified expression on his face.

I heard her bedroom door close and decided to let this one go. Even if Jock had been planning on any nefarious activities there was no way he was going to play them out now!

Goodnight John Boy!