Meet the Fockers

Well, my g/f has accused me of being a one-hit wonder due to my lack of postings of late. In my defence, I've had lots on. Meh, same old, same old. Anyways, my folks -aka the Fockers- came down at the weekend. It was fab seeing them. I have to say that I'm struck by my Dad's clairvoyant ability. He always seems to book weekends to visit me, just when I really need to see them. We went out for dinner with some "continental" friends fae Germany *nod to Steffi* . My Dad cracked me up! After a few wee drinky-droos, there was absolutely no way my friends could understand his accent. I lost count of the times that I had to tell him to slow down lol. After fulfilling one Scottish stereotype, we tried to break down another - that Scottish folk are tight. We'd managed to prove our point successfully until the bill arrived.


Me - What's that charge?
Dad - Don't know, I don't have my specs on. Could you have a look at it?
Me - Service charge! Dad, don't tip, I'm not that impressed.
Dad - Does that say optional?
Me - Aye. That's shocking, they've just snuck that in there.
Dad - Fine, I'll give them half of that then if we don't have to pay it.


The following day we managed to talk the old yin into taking us to Auntie Betty's for breakfast. I insisted that we get a table in the main cafe. No point in splashing out at Bettys if people can't see you! Dad was funny - he knows his place and declared that he would sit with his back to the window so that we could people watch. He's well trained.

This pic is for my girrel - spotted it when I was raising my pinky with my Earl Grey in a china cup