No, I don't want you to buy me LSD. I mean trip in its literal sense.
"Not for a while. Do you think money grows on trees?" (Not very original, I know)
"Well, actually . . . "
"I didn't mean that literally, Lexie."
It was deal time. If they (the kids) can raise enough dosh, it'll be USA here we come again.
Being kids, they've limited opportunities to earn money in a legal way. Books is the obvious one. Given the generous, but foolish, deal I struck with Andrew over books. To be fair, he keeps coming up with new book ideas. Like the new Toilet Paper Series.
Begging. Andrew thought that was worth a try. "What have we got to lose, Andrew?" "Our self-respect, dad, our self-respect."
Lost that years ago, self-respect. In a layby on the old A1.
That's why begging buttons have appeared. Annoyingly prominently, I hope.
Tears. They've been shed. Most mine when Lexie was a bit careless with his knee. Mustn't want any more brothers.
"We'll see how it goes, Andrew." That's dadspeak for "no way we'll get serious moolah from that".
Prove me wrong.
The formative beers of my teenage years - My teenage beer drinking involved plenty of quantity – I was a regular pub customer from 16 onwards, pubs being the place to meet my mates, and girls – but...
11 hours ago