Dear Dad,
About 25 years ago, I think, I tried to make your Father's day special. You remember, don't you?
I made early morning coffee for you and Mum. That wasn't special in itself. No. The special thing was how I made the coffee. You see, I knew how you liked that funny frothy coffee they served in Italian restaurants and some of the trendier cafes. So I wanted to make some for you instead of the instant coffee you normally have.
The problem, of course, was the bubbles. How to make the bubbles?
The first thing I tried was to put about 10 large spoonfuls of instant coffee into the boiling water. This seemed to do the trick at first, but then the coffee went black again. Very, very black.
I struggled to think of another way of doing it. I thought and thought until, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bottle of washing up liquid. Of course! That must be where the bubbles come from! So I squirted a goodly amount into the black liquid and stirred. Bubbles! Lots of bubbles!
Feeling everso proud, I took you my creation. I woke you up. I presented you with a handmade card and gave you your surprise. I then sat with delight beaming all over my face until you'd drained every last drop of your treat.
I'm confessing this because:
a) As I've got older, I've felt progressively guiltier about this and
b) Today, First-Born presented me with her gift to me. 10 Mars bars which she'd thoughtfully unwrapped and left in the back of the car. In 40 degrees centrigade heat. As I chewed manfully through the fluff and thought of what I was going to have to do to the back seat to get it clean while First-Born sat smiling at the cleverness of her gift, I wondered if you felt a disturbance in the paternal force and started laughing your arse off...
Your loving son,
Newly
