I bet you’re expecting some salacious tale of post office boozing of cocktails and the like, ending up in some kind of drug addled orgy of disgrace, morally defeated to be found in a lump on the floor with just my work pass to my name.
I opted instead for a night out with my family, young Louie of 3 years and 5 months and my dear wife Krys of 36 years and 7 months ( yes, I’m a toy boy) in the idyll of Roath that is the Pear Tree – a fine establishment that welcomes your average Guardian reader, a few luvvies, a good section of surfers ( they have free wifi) and a smattering of young parents that think it’s cool to take their offspring to a ‘pub’ for tea (that me by the way)!!!
Ive spent a few evenings with my good friend Gareth Jones (no relation – we managed to wheedle out the ginger gene in 1917 when uncle Arthur was tragically lost in the war – a schadenfreude moment of epic proportions in Ebbw Vale but we sort of all gasped a sigh of relief when we realised no more offspring would be mistaken for one of the travelling folk variety!) in the Pear Tree – quaffing a few ales and mulling over the finer points of life and of course our beloved music!
Anyway, my family and I, after meeting outside the museum, made our way to the Pear Tree for some nourishment and quench, to escape the rigmarole of a Friday that normally entails Krys taking young Jonesy to slumber while I try and conjure up a mushroom risotto without drinking the bottle of wine I’ve just opened to cook with. Now I could freely booze, in public, without the fear of over stepping the glass of wine to hour on the clock ratio that normally pervades my quaffing appetite.
I can’t express enough how much fun we had this evening.
Louie was a model child (after being a proper little shit most of the week with me) – enjoying the freedom of waving to strangers on the double decker bus from the second floor bistro window and trying to get them to wave back! (he managed a few gingerly offered waves from two closeted extroverts and a full set of wave/thumbs up/peace sign from one lad on the 54 going to town – he was so happy/simple).
We made witches fingers from sugar packets (this only works on kids fingers unless you have some kind of bone degenerative disease), count the tramp (good on a friday since the beard has come back into fashion), see how many times you can make your parents take you to the toilet even though you’ve just been but you can’t risk it just in case and you haven’t brought clean pants for him, and the piece de resistance ‘rock, paper, scissors’.
I can’t believe how quickly Louie took up the rulings and indeed patterns of the game. Within three goes he had me in a corner, cowering, with a Lilliputian sized scissors ready to slice my man sized paper hand to pieces!!! He’s the devil incarnate!!!
The walk home, after a few plates of tapas and red wine was eventful. I say eventful because every new path was an event! ‘On your toes Dad’ he’d say – at which point I’d have to crouch like Usain Bolt and wait till he said ready, steady, and the he was gone – expecting me to chase which I dutifully did!!! The problem is, as he’s getting older he’s getting faster. As I’m getting older, I’m getting slower. Much slower. He does humour me though and slow down when he notices me wheezing!
Bed time, which had basically been a car crash of human and tired emotions last night, was a breeze of joviality and overtired giggles.
I’m glad I opted for family tonight. There’s far more to Friday nights than drinking yourself into a stupor and waiting ages for a taxi. Just take your family for a bit of grub and few civilised glasses of vino tinto (like the French do) and then drink yourself into a stupor watching documentaries about Fleetwood Mac and Pearl Jam on your settee with superior wines from your local independent wine outlet safe in the knowledge that you’ve pleased everyone and yourself. Sometimes not easy with a family.
Dylan once said ” you can please some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time”. Even though that, in its essence, is completely true, i found that you can please all of the people all of the time as long as your people are:
A) your son – who’s happy with chips and a mobile phone; and
B) your wife – who’s glad to have some support after a day of chasing a son around who’s affectionately known by his grandfather as Forest Gump!
“Heart Attack Man”