Driving ambitions

"Hello my India Princess" he said as I climbed onto his lap. He'd been picking all the pockets off his new trousers. "Wouldn't be so bad if I had lots of money to put in them. Who but a boy scout or a soldier wants all these bloody pockets" he said as I gave him one of my biggest and bestest smiles and did a wee. "You little bugger" He said and I laughed, which made him laugh too.

He didn't laugh for long though because Gary arrived. I was sad too as it meant I'd have to put up with moron Manchester touching all my stuff and getting snot on it. I think I hate Manchester more than dad hates Gary.

Apparently, when I was just born, Gary said to dad "Just think, they could grow up together and maybe even get married one day." He was talking about Me and Manchester, yuck!

I would have loved to have been there, well I was but didn't know it, when dad said
"My aspirations for India run a million miles higher than that." I don't think Gary knows what 'aspirations' means because he was supposed to have said "Yeah, it's great to have an ambition isn't it. What's your ambition then?"

Dad tried to ignore him but he carried on, "No, go on, tell me, you got to have an ambition you know." I would have loved to known what was going on because my dad said :
"Well, getting my book finished and having it published. But there's a fat chance of that happening with you round here every five fucking minutes."

"No, no, I don't mean like that, I mean like mine's to live long enough to see Manchester grow up. At least ten years, so's he'll remember who his dad is. Babies don't remember nothing, you know that don't you?"

Well, my dad's dead clever with words sometimes, when he wants to be. "Gary, that's not an ambition, it's a curse. If Manchester grows up with no knowledge of you, it would be a blessing"

I can't think why he keeps coming round, can you?

DRIVING LESSONS

Gary drove his 4x4 pick-up truck right over the patch of dirt dad had spent the morning digging for mum to plant some of her flowers and parked it right where dad has told him a million times not to. He marched straight over to us, dad in his wet pants, me with none, leaving Samanee to lift out the pushchair while holding Manchester at the same time. None of them looked happy.

"Fucking Thai drivers!" he shouted. Dad groaned

"Before you say anything Gary. I know." Dad went on to say "Someone cut you up, someone came straight out of a side road without stopping or even looking, you had to brake on the roundabout. Oh, and six year olds shouldn't have motorbikes."

That shut him up. It true, they drive differently here in Thailand. dad finds it amusing. He says that at Christmas time, the big fat man in charge is given a new catalogue of all the road signs to choose from. "I think we'll have some of these yellow stripy things to put on the ground and some more of those blue signs with the arrows on and, oh look at this, three coloured lights on poles, they're fabulous aren't they?" If there is any money left over he'll buy another hundred silhouettes of buffalos to stick in any empty places that are left.

"The problem is," says dad. "No one tells the drivers what they mean." Then he laugh.

Dad never gets sweary when he drives. "I know they're pratts. So long as you don't hit one there's no problem."

'Well, they shouldn't be on the road." huffed Gary.

"Well, you shouldn't be in my house. Fuck off." replied my dad.

I told you he was good with words sometimes, didn't I?