What is this life if full of care...
Between finishing my A-levels and heading off to uni, I went on what was my last family holiday. I didn't really want to, but I felt I ought to make up for the previous years holiday where I was a resentful snotty teenager who made it obvious to the world that they didn't want to be on a family holiday. Anyway, we went to Center Parcs and a most pleasant time was had by all. Mostly.

Most nights we had pleasant meals out or back in the chalet, with civilised quantities of beer or wine and early nights ready for another day of healthy walking, bike riding, squash, swimming, badminton and what have you. Apart from the night that my brother and I decided it should be a 'boys' night and we took my Dad off to play snooker while Mum stayed watching Dr Zhivago or whatever womanly film we had placated her with.

It was that night we realised what a good influence my Mum is normally. Dad was off the leash, the wallet was open and he was going to make sure he had fun. It started gently enough...coughing whenever it was someone elses shot at the table, then deliberately farting to put us off. We were laughing. The people at the next table less so. Then he was hungry, so sandwiches were purchased. Did we want ham? cheese? chicken? bacon? tuna? 'Sod it, mr waiter, bring us one of each' And a round of scotches while you are there. Then the stories started 'I played football with Jimmy Greaves...'; 'I once pushed a car all the way through the Dartford Tunnel';'More Scotch'; 'I was faster than Jesse Owen as a schoolboy'. Who knew, Dad? who knew?

Gross exaggerations aside, a good night...nay...a great night, was being had by all.

But as is always the case, good things end and the night wound down, we staggered back to where a sober and unimpressed Mother was waiting, almost but not quite in a hairnet and tapping a rolling pin in her hands. But Dad wasn't done, and out came more beers, more stories, more more beers and more more stories until...'I could still climb a tree better than you boys' he said. Which was undoubtedly true, as neither of us boys were really capable of standing upright by this point, let alone climbing anything more challenging than off the sofa. Still, I was not allowing this to go unchallenged. 'Prove it...'

And prove it he did. He could definitely climb the tree out the back of the chalet. He showed us. He also showed us he couldn't climb back down again. We had to talk him out of jumping though, and I had the bright idea of getting the picnic table out and telling him to hang down and stand on that. It was a great idea in theory I'm sure, but it didn't take into account two major things.

One, me and my brother were far too wasted to successfully erect the picnic table without so much crashing and bashing that the people in the adjoining chalet came out to see what was going on.

Two, picnic tables are not designed for the weight of a full grown adult suddenly landing on them from a tree.

I'll give him his due though, he managed to stay on his feet as the table buckled beneath him. He stayed on them all the while he flailed backwards trying to get his balance as his momentum took him across the grass, past us all and only stopping when his heels caught the step of the neighbours now open patio doors where he ended up on the floor on his back, being stared at by two distinctly unimpressed thirty something holiday makers, before getting to his feet and proudly saying 'Just showing the boys a thing or two about their old man, I'm sure you understand' as we led him away leaving a red faced mother blusterting apologies.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Wed 2 Mar 2011, 12:12, 4 replies)

I Like
This.
( Trollman, Wed 2 Mar 2011, 18:23, closed)

Me too.

(DownhillGardener no-one does it like that anymore, Wed 2 Mar 2011, 19:04, closed)

Me as well.

(woodchopper likes chopping wood, Wed 2 Mar 2011, 19:40, closed)

The only way this story could get better...
...Is if your Dad were to post a reply, claiming he "wasn't that drunk, and I climbed the tree, didn't I?"
(xaer0mancer, Wed 2 Mar 2011, 20:04, closed)