There is a long pause.
“I think,” I begin, speaking slowly and softly as I collect my thoughts, “I think that it’s a fairly common thing for father to feel… to feel as if they take last place in the family unit. It’s not jealousy as such – it’s just that the man often gets overlooked and ends up – illogical as it might seem – feeling a bit neglected. And that’s just a bit poignant today of all days.”
There is a sigh from the end of the telephone wire. “I’m sorry we’re not there,” admits the LTLP, who is away with the Toddler. “Have you made yourself some breakfast?”
“Yes,” I reply. “And thanks for leaving the card. It was nice. It would just be good to… I… well, anyway. I’ll see you when I see you.”
I ring off.
“It’s brilliant!” I say to Short Tony in the Village Pub, 0.00001 seconds later. “I had a really nice breakfast, get to go to the pub AND get the sympathy points. Could I have another pint, please? And later on, I can watch the cricket and motor racing and then perhaps listen to some Jethro Tull.”
“Even though motor racing is shit,” I add, taking a roast potato from the bowl on the bar, and passing them to Len the Fish. “But it’s the principle of the thing.”
We sway down the road some time later. Father’s Day!!! I am feeling particularly manly after beer, roast potatoes and several large Martini Rossos. Time for more man-stuff.
“Mmmm – that’s good,” I breathe, as I roll the soft texture of Len the Fish’s tongue around my mouth.
“I’ve cured a huge batch,” he says. “Would you like me to cut you some to take back with you? And I tell you what – I brewed some elderflower champagne.”
Most of the elderflower champagne has exploded, but he gives Short Tony and I an unexploded bottle each. I look at it, very impressed. My bottle erupts almost immediately, the cork narrowly missing my face as it shoots skywards in the direction of Fakenham.
“It’s a little lively still,” he admits.
We drink elderflower champagne and munch on tongue. It is a shame that we have been neglected on this, our special day, and sad that I have been forced to spend it alone and miserable.
Ah…good. That sort of tongue. I was a bit worried, what with the LTLP being away and being plied with home-made alcohol, that Len the Fish might be more than we assumed.
Sounds like the perfect way to spend congratulations-you-bred-successfully day.
If you get tongue from Len the Fish, does that mean you grab pollocks from Malc the Meat?
Is Len the Fish my exboyfriend? The technique sounds very familiar.
Also, in my village we have John the Fish, and Nick the Shop. Must be a village thing.
I knew a Hungarian who shared his tongue with lots of folks here.
He taught French. Students and teachers used to meet at soirees at various homes some evenings.
George the Hungarian did a good stewed ox tongue, the ones who feasted said.
Nothing like Martini Rosso for making you feel like a man, Jonny.
Oh, Lord. Definitely going the way of a sex blogger now.
i received my first ever fathers day card the other day from my step daughter to be. it was the first one she’d ever sent.
Way to turn the screw on the LTLP there, Jonny! That’ll teach her to be a productive member of society with an actual life to go to, rather than some sad parasite who hangs out in the pub all day leeching tongue off his mates and smelling of wee. Can’t think of any conceivable way that could go wrong for you, unless she reads this blog. And as I say, she’s a productive member of society with an actual life to go to…
*sigh* Wish I was productive. On the other hand, I don’t have to sleep with Jonny. Swings and roundabouts, really, isn’t it?
No No No! You’ve got it all wrong – even Ivan.
LTLP is the perfect wife; knows exactly what you would like for Father’s Day and has given it to you.
Does this mean you swan off with Servalan on Mother’s Day and give her ‘Me’ time?
Certainly not, Tillylil. I would not even attempt to disrupt their sacred bond.
“even Ivan”, Pat? Golly! And I have it in writing, too…
Oh no, you were left all alone on this magical family day! Don’t worry, I understand you perfectly, and can voice the thing you were clearly too modest and reticent to say: You would like us to start a campaign to make sure the LTLP never ever leaves you alone on your own in an empty house ever again. Indeed you would like your Important Fatherly Status emphasised by being given the child to care for at all and every opportunity. No worries. We’ll sort it out for you mate. :O)
I feel sorry for the cork having to go to Fakenham. I had to do a job (as in work, not my morning toilet) there the other week and my what a grim trip it is from Norwich.
The Gas Museum there, however, is tip top.
Ah yes, but at least by being away, you were surely the happy recipient of the gift of all gifts – a decent lie on. Better than a crap t shirt really when you think if it.
Thank you everybody for your understanding.
I have never visited the Gas museum in Fakenham, but I really should. Perhaps next Father’s Day.
Although it is the Museum of Drainage in Prickwillow that always intrigues. Every time I drive past I think that I should pop in.
Next time you’re in Birmingham’s jewellery quarter you must drop in to the Pen Room museum. It’s all about pens. Just the nibs, not the bit you hold. Actually, it’s rather good.
Talking of museums-(why?) the Pencil Museum in Keswick is absolutely unmissable. MTL and I were blown away.
What lead you there, Pat?
AndyB: I WISH I could do that.
I want to make Angel Food Cake on Father’s Day. But I have no clue what I want to do with it. Other than strawberries & whipped cream, what else is quick & easy, but looks fairly snazzy too?