Saturday, January 15, 2005

Birthday Meal

It’s Dad’s birthday this week, so we go out for lunch at the Rubbing House overlooking Epsom racecourse to toast his health.

Outside of trips to the medical centre, it’s the first time Mum has been out of the house since her fall the other week (her leg is the most amazing range of colours from bright red to purple and black). Getting her in and out the car and house is a struggle (more so than usual, which is saying something), but she’s determined to make it and she does.

As we eat looking out over rolling downs bathed in beautiful sunshine, thoughts of "that hollow would make a good amphitheatre style stage", "I wonder how close the nearest houses are" and "nightmare perimeter to secure mind" run through my head. Most people think of horses when they look at a racecourse, these days I think of festivals.

But we all see the world in our own way anyway as is very obvious when my father holds forth on what the latest fashions in female hairstyles is. When queried as to the source of this 'what’s hot, what’s not' knowledge, it becomes apparent that my father’s barometer for contemporary fashion trends is the various female news readers he sees on TV.

Some read Vogue, others consult iD Dad checks out the News at Ten

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