Humberside

“Dad, I thought we’d finished with this.”

“Don’t worry, Andrew. Still plenty of photos to go.”

“Oh no.”

“Starting with some photos of Uncle David’s kitchen.”

“Why the fuck did you photograph that?”

“So we’ll be able to look back in 20 years and see what it looked like.”

“You’ll be dead by then.”

“Thanks for that cheerful thought. What about these snaps of David’s garden?”

“Wow. These are amazing.”

“Really?”

“Amazingly boring. I know what his garden looks like”
“You can’t call his wildflower garden boring.”

“Very funny. That’s the empty plot next to his garden.”

“You got me.”

“You must find these interesting: Humberside airport.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Show me some more.”

“Don’t take the piss, Andrew.”

“Stop torturing me, then.”

“Don’t they bring back happy memories?”

“Of a car park? And check in desks? No, they don’t. Do you have any pictures of the lounge? They would bring back happy memories. Of free beer.”

“And whisky.”

“Yes. Of course, you were on whisky again.”

“I didn’t want to need a piss on the plane.”

“Yeah, right. Another one of your ‘reasons’.”

“Fuck off.”

“What else do I need to look at, Dad? Some boring photos from the plane?”

“Can do.”

“How’s that for boring, Andrew?”

“Pretty good, if I’m honest. Dead boring.”

“Thank you.”

“I wasn’t being nice.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dad. And don’t say thank you again.”

“Thanks.”

“Grr.”