Of Zoe and Dad
18.11.09, 6:10 pm

Oh my God, I thought I�d written an entry before that spit-flecked Rage Update last week, but it appears not, so now I�ve kind�ve lost track of which events I�ve bored you with and which I�m yet to bore you with. Bugger... okay, we�ll I�ll try and cobble together a coherent entry.

So, ceilidh magic up in Falkirk. Sadly, everything did not go to plan as I felt horribly ill for the entirety of Friday and Saturday, which was quite a struggle. I got little sleep, ate nothing but a banana on Saturday, and then had to get in a car and drive two hours from Dumfries to the hotel. Once there, I had to have hideous tea and cake with James�s ever-expanding relatives, who all look very similar and kept trapping me on my own and talking to me about absolute bollocks. It was then back to the hotel room for a welcome half-hour lie-down, before going down to the evening meal. I was sat next to James�s cousin�s boyfriend, and had to pretend to be interested in his career designing anaerobic respirators for supermarket waste.

After the meal, another lie-down. We arrived back a little late and consequently missed the speeches (GET IN), so it was straight into the dancing. I danced a Dashing White Sergeant with James and Sarah and nearly fainted immediately afterwards, so decided not to dance again. Managed to escape at 10pm and had a bath, went to bed, didn�t sleep well, but at least felt better the next morning. The Sunday was taken over by a six hour drive back to Sheffield.. I did, at least, score masses of brownie points for going to the hideous ceilidh whilst on my deathbed, however.

Saw the lovely Zoe yesterday, where I basically spent the entire half-day dragging her about Sheffield looking for eggcups and simultaneously ranting about how much I hate Twilight. It was though, as always, a joy to see her, and even Sheffield behaved itself and cracked open the sunshine and blue skies.

Rang my dad last night for another insane conversation about Christmas, and was then told that his doctor is a bit concerned about his blood pressure, and made him wear a 24-hour monitor. Please bear in mind that my dad is on about four different types of pill for high blood pressure and borderline diabetes. Please also bear in mind that he sounded drunk and grumpy, which appears to be the norm now. I may have paraphrased the following conversation somewhat:

Me: Just a wee thought, Dad, but maybe you should try and quit smoking again to help your blood pressure?
Dad: Quit smoking? Oh I see, YOU are suggesting that to ME, are you? Ex-smokers are definitely not allowed to ever suggest quitting smoking to someone else, because changing your mind about something and working to overcome a bad habit is the worst, most smuggest thing to do ever and it would�ve been better if you�d just stuck to your smoking habit forever.
Me: Do you not think it�d be a good idea though? I mean, you tried before and did really well, before giving up. Maybe try again?
Dad: No, I�m not quitting smoking now.
Me: Why not?
Dad: I live a healthy life! I do not abuse my body in any way! My daily 10 fags and a bottle of wine definitely does not go against my doctor�s wishes!
Me: You have been smoking your entire life, though...
Dad: Yes, well, it�s 50:50, isn�t it? Your health either suffers from the smoking or it doesn�t. It is definitely this black and white. No shades of grey whatsoever.
Me: You can�t actually say that your blood pressure�s fine though, can you. I mean, you�re on a load of different pills to suppress it.
Dad: Well, I think you need to remember that my blood pressure is genetically inherited from my biological father. I mean, because I�m adopted this is purely speculative and I have no idea who my biological father is so can�t ask him, but it�s still definitely all inherited and nothing to do with the smoking and the red wine and the never leaving the house except to go to work in the car.
Me: I really think it�s a good idea to quit.
Dad: Don�t preach at me! I am getting very loud and defensive now because I have nothing to counter your sensible suggestions with, other than impotent rage. Don�t preach at me!
Me: But, if this was the other way around then wouldn�t you say the same thing to me?
Dad: Definitely not! I definitely would not preach at you � pointing out an awkward truth to someone that you care about is the worst thing that a person can do. Infinitely worse than not saying anything at all and watching them die prematurely from heart disease.
Me: Right... let�s talk about something else now.
Dad: Okay, I�m going to talk about the Toyota Iq in an angry tone for five minutes, because we�re thinking about buying one, and then say goodbye because I still haven�t forgiven you. I�m then going to get off the phone and relay your entire conversation to Amanda, who will take great delight in pointing out what a horrible bitch of a daughter you are. Bye bye now.

Sometimes I don�t know why I frigging well bother.

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