8 Days and counting.....
On Sunday 16th Jan we had the baby christened. We had a small gathering of family and friends in the church and then back to our place for tea and medals.
My Dad and Stepmum came. Yes them again, the most disinterested grandparents you could ever meet.
Just a quick recap: Dad;- 73, pisshead. Real mum died when I was 7 hence, Stepmum;- 52, fat, grumpy, wheelchair bound due to crippling MS.
So back at our house the great wheeled one regails anyone in earshot with stories of her daughters children, especially about how my Dad "had a grandaughter on each knee" oh what jolly times were had by all (actually I'm not sure how that works as She has 3 girls and I've never noticed Dad having an extra knee). She pauses occasionally to ask someone passing to stick some food in her gob, which she can't do herself, she then eats like a seal eating fish (insert honking noises here).
Anyway shortly before they leave Dad mutters something to me along the lines of "sorry I didn't time to get out and get anything or a card". Yes that's right my parents came to their grandson's christening, came back to our house, enjoyed our hospitality, ate the food and drink provided and then pissed off without even buying a fucking card that alone getting a present for their newest Grandchild. I typed that last bit really hard as it makes my blood boil just thinking about it.
As they leave Dad say's he'll write a cheque that we can stick in the baby's account and "pop round with it tomorrow", did he come?...
8 days and counting.