When someone like a Russian president or my own prime minister (no caps for either title) tells me I cannot swear I guess I could get pretty annoyed. The said Russian has incurred the wrath of the world's liberals for such an edict - quite right too, though on a personal level I am not sure I mind. Of course its a necessary thing for all, hammer missing nail and hitting thumb comes to mind, but I swear, too often, its lazy on my part and I wish I didn't. And yet someone has already said something to me about that. Once in a moment of carelessness I let a swearword slip in front of my Dad who said, and I still remember the precise words, 'Hey sir, that's pit talk. You don't talk like that in the house.' Pit talk, words used underground and away from the ears of wives and babes, what a different world it must have been, and yet he was firm in keeping the two worlds apart - especially in his advice to me, to, 'work on the surface...' which of course I strive to do (no hidden depths in my work). And last night we had a chat, my Dad and me. By TXT! He has a new phone and I sent him some pictures and then we TXT about the football. I have this cough and talking on the phone is nigh on impossible but I will call his new mobile today and make sure TXTing is just a way of swapping pictures (I sent him the one above as a reminder of the day he, Alex Sharp and I visited the Kelpies) I am going up to see him on his birthday with Abbi because the y(almost) share the day and I am looking forward to it very much and thinking about it makes me nostalgic.
