Relaxed Evening

Hey, Bullet, I said. How about we call the big sister and maybe make a bit of a barbecue?

Sure, grunted Bullet.

So I called Grown-up Daughter. I was thinking of maybe having a bit of a barbecue. What do you think?

Sounds good. But I’ll have to fuck off straight away.

GrownupDaughter is studying some shit, and anyway daughters are a pain in the arse, so I said Fine.

I lit up the barbie and made a pile of things that go with barbies. I opened up a bottle of wine for me, but not for Bullet cos he’s too young. GrownupDaughter is far from too young. GrownupDaughter would drink you (and me} under the table but luckily GrownupDaughter has the car outside and therefore can’t drink. How things have changed. Would a pile of drink in my belly have stopped me driving when I was GrownupDaughter’s age?

[Answer: No]

We had a nice dinner. GrownupDaughter fucked off and Bullet wandered off to tickle away at his electric guitar plus small practice amp. Nice. I lit a fire outside and put on a CD.

Come on, I said to Bullet. We’ll listen to a few songs outside.

OK, agreed Bullet.

So we sat back, in the glow of the fire, and these are the things we listened to:

Neil Young, Freedom
Guy Clark, Old No 1
Tom Russell, The Long Way Around

How bad?

You sit out the back with your son, in the dark, with the fire glowing, listening to music and it’s good for you and it works for him.

How bad is that?