Meet The Parents

“Paul, please can I have my photo on your blog?”

“No mum, you can’t.”
“But I carried you in my womb for 9 months.”
“Oh, that old chestnut is it? You can’t get on my blog unless you are part of my Aussie experience or send me photos of yourself in stockings á la Claire from Bolton. And frankly, the latter is not an option.” So, it was with these thoughts that Lizzie (mummy) and Father D (daddy) flew 264000 kilometres to see me.

After 20 months I was worried they may have forgotten what I look like and when I caught them hugging the hotel receptionist my fears were confirmed. A quick show of driving licenses sorted out the identification crisis and a good time was had by all. I did initially want to show up carrying a baby and tell them I had a special surprise. But finding a baby to rent during rush hour on a Wednesday is not an easy task. Just ask Madonna.


The next few days were spent going for meals and catching up with recent events on the cobblestones back home. I have missed my dads' reactions to taking the blame for everything from the air con not working to the Hindenburg disaster, and my mum was well and truly on form. On Saturday they came to see where I live and we had a BBQ with my housemates. I even cooked them some kangaroo to complete the real Aussie experience. Not that they need me for this – the other night they went to see Kylie in Sydney. Anyway, it was really great seeing them both and I’m glad they made the effort to come out and see me, to experience a piece of Aus and to do that parenty thing of slipping me a few quid before they left.

Round of applause for mums and dads everywhere. Apart from Father Ted who wasn’t a real father at all.