Friday, 16 July 2010

Papa Don't Preach.

On our last night of our visit to Spain we sat around the hotel pool and watched a flamenco show, which took place atop a platform above the pool. Mother angrily eyed up some drunkards beside us every time they so much as looked in the opposite direction of the flamenco show. "There's just no appreciation. Andy, you should say something. Andy." My dad wasn't listening he was watching the dancers. The female dancers.

It didn't take long till he was dragged up to dance with them, then mother was dragged up too. Lee and I laughed but were careful to make zero eye contact in case we were dragged up too. When they returned my Dad began telling a story.

"Did I tell you about the time I met Kylie Minogue?"
"I was dragged up to dance with Kylie Minogue at a cabaret show once?"
"Were you?"
"Well no. Not really. She looked a bit like Kylie Minogue though."
"Did she really?"
"No." Mother answered. "Your father had a few to drink. Everybody was Kylie Minogue that night."

It was at this point I think we walked away to find something else to do. Can you blame us?

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