A wise old..... teenager!?

He looked like this at one stage

..just not as colourful

My dad TP is a very wise man. A free thinker, a man whose sage-like wisdom ( which is far too mind-blowing to go into great detail in this medium, though I am giving you a snippet) would, in another place and another time, surely have led to him to great eminence. 


Perhaps as a village elder. 


Perhaps the only reason he is not is because of his recent admission that he still basically a teenager.


 Well maybe not the only reason... I have seen his vast record collection, and shudder when I think of what exactly he was doing back in the 70's when listening to albums like "Tone Float" by The Organisation... I hadn't heard of them either, but their music is MENTAL. This record collection actually lends him an eminence of sorts, at least among myself and some of my friends, but that's for another post, another day..


He is also the only person I know called TP. 


But back to this admission of being a teenager. So picture this. The whole family are at the dinner table, and it went something like this. Mum called TP " a big child" for whatever reason ( of which there are many). TP shrugged. 
"I'm glad"
You're what??...
Now get ready for some TP lyricism, for the man has a way with words. What he said won't have as much weight attached to it in this format, but I'm trying my best here. I'm only the messenger. Maybe you had to be there, but anyway...

" I'm glad I'm still basically a teenager. I'll always be. Most men are...., and most women aren't...

 ( dramatic pause, as my sister and mum actually started listening)

 Most women never were. They were born as adults, and have always thought as adults, always wanting to do the sensible and right things. And because of that they haven't had as fulfilling and enjoyable a childhood as most boys."

And he went back to his dinner as we all looked on. 

Deep, poignant stuff eh???


When I grow up I want to be a teenager like my dad.
He is 57. 

Ooooooooohhhnly in Dreams

He knows what I'm talking about

I toyed with writing this post in an elaborate fashion, with rambling passages about fantastical dreams and sleep-time flights of fantasy involving fame, success, yachts, money, football, and Kelly Brook ( all separately of course... though come to think of it, some combinations would work... use your imagination, it's what dreaming is for)

 If you don't have an imagination, you don't have dreams. That's not to say if you have a great imagination ( I like to imagine I do), you can only dream about really cool or random and strange surreal things. You may dream of things that are completely normal, like having a beard or walking a dog or falling ( just before you wake up - I'm sure you know how it feels like)

Or you may have a dream like this...

Last night I dreamt it was a snowy Christmas. I was in a warm living room. Beautiful Christmas Tree by the fire. Everything basked in an orange warm glow.
 I was giving a friend a present for Christmas and I watched as she unwrapped it.

 And unwrapped it...

 And unwrapped it...

 ..Her eyes lit up. It was a roll from Spar. A baguette, packed to the gills and wrapped in plastic.
 She looked at me with a " How did you know!?" expression. I nonchalantly smiled back like Pierce Brosnan.
 The parent's said it was a very cute and funny present. I was basked in glory.
Admittedly, the roll did look amazing.

And then I woke up.

Ridiculous and bizarre. I hope I have a better dream tonight.