I'm off to the Isle of Wight for a few days - sun, sea, sand, sangria and... my dad. Just the two of us hanging out while TA stays in London and my mother is off in the undergrowth somewhere communing with nature and a lot of Germans (I try not to know any more, my policy is: don't ask). I'll try to keep the pub-lunch pie count in single figures. I'll also try to keep my dad's feet on the ground. Last time mum was away he managed to catch a stomach bug, pass out and fall off a ladder, badly bruising his face and arm in the process. I tried to get down there to look after him, but couldn't get away from work. I rang my brother to see if he could stay with dad for a few days (since brother lives on the isle) but he said, "Well, there's no point me going round. I don't want to catch it." Charming.
With a fair wind I'll be back at the Sett on Sunday. TA has promised that he'll do chores in my absence and make sure that my plants don't die. Keep an eye on him, won't you?