Now it’s safe to say that my Dad is an old-fashioned gentleman, he opens doors for ladies and still stands whenever one enters the room. He would never say anything inappropriate and I’ve never heard him swear; of course, me and my sister more than compensate for my parents’ self-restraint in the expletive department.
Some time ago one of my friends kindly loaned me, and by default my sister, the Fifty Shades Trilogy; if I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again if I had nits, my sister would want them! My sibling enjoyed the books, me not so much.
Now my dad is one of those strange souls who frequently strikes up conversations with complete strangers; in fact, he could so often be mistaken for the “nutter on the bus”. You know the one that gets on and sits next to you despite every other seat being available. So it was inevitable that when he was stood in line at a supermarket checkout behind a young woman who was waiting to pay for the Fifty Shades trilogy, he remarked to her that his daughters had the same books and wondered why they were so popular. In fairness to my Dad, he probably thought that they were the same genre as the James Patterson novels that we both enjoy so much. He would have been mortified to discover that he was in actual fact, discussing the latest in “mummy porn”. My Dad had been raised in a strict Irish Catholic environment in the St James district of Leeds, peppered with lots of Hellfire & Damnation and where my late Grandma, God love her, would change television channels should a Playtex bra commercial air whilst any men were present.
I can’t imagine what this young woman was thinking as my pensioner Dad casually chatted with her about her choice of fiction. Fortunately, she didn’t run screaming from the store and my Dad wasn’t detained by security. However, this is one conversation with my Dad that I’m going to be leaving to my more forthright sister.