Father's and Sons' Day

Laduree from Tristan. Too gorgeous to eat, maybe not....

Will there be a card? A drawing hastily executed? Flowers? Chocolates? Breakfast made? I am up writing early on the Sunday designated for making mother’s feel special or at least appreciated for pushing a trolley around Tesco and filling the fridge now and then. Cost centre #2 comes to my desk and hands me a white paper bag with a name from the distant past, it’s so old, it’s chic and vintage, in fact, these days the name must represent triumphant survivalism. Golden Discs. I know I can download anything I want, easy, instant and leave it stuck on my computer or iPhone, but he heard me say I wanted to buy this CD and with HMV closed didn’t know where to go anymore. You see, CD’s can be lent, like books and uploaded. The first CD he ever bought me was Kylie, which I still love for driving long distance. My special mother’s day treat is Lykke Li. A sort of husky Bjork meets Bob Dylan meets Patti Smith, I recommend.

In the afternoon, the cost centres and I make a long overdue visit to my brother who is undergoing chemotherapy. We’ve had a few cancelled visits when he hasn’t been feeling well and hope today will be a good one. It will be the first time in years that his sons and mine are all in the one room. His wife and I have prevailed on them to co-ordinate a few hours off on Sunday afternoon, away from soccer, rugby, work, cinema, girlfriends and, most popular, bed. After the essential photo calls, we settle down to watch the England v Italy game; a sport I never thought would bind me to my sons.

I want to invite my brother and his sons to cost centre #2’s forthcoming twenty-first celebrations and try to pin CC#2 down on the details.

I offer to do a dinner at home for his friends, the local homies, not everyone he knows. These days the twenty-firsts are often all-boy dinners and plus ones aren’t invited. CC#2 and his girlfriend don't go to each others parties much, but get on exceedingly well all the same. There is a new breed of woman out there who is content to walk the dog with her student boyfriend as a date. Tolerant but not surrendered; there must be a book in that.

In response to the offer he says he doesn’t want any fuss, no party.

‘But don’t you want me to do something special; just have your friends here for beer and pizza?’

‘My friends here drinking beer and pizza wouldn’t make me feel special,’ he says.

‘Oh.’

‘Going out with you, dad, CC#1 and my girlfriend would be special.’

You can’t argue with that. Now I just need to find a very loud restaurant.