Embarrassing body-popper (From The Northern Echo)

Embarrassing body-popper

2:09pm Thursday 16th June 2011 in Dad At Large By Peter Barron

MY attempts to stop being an embarrassment to my children continued when I agreed to pick up my 17- year-old son and his mates from a music festival.

They’d spent the day at the Evolution festival in Newcastle and they needed a mug – sorry, a parent – to drive up at midnight to give them a lift home because the last train had already gone.

So there I was, sitting in the car park at Newcastle railway station – the agreed meeting place – listening to my Take That greatest hits CD and waiting for Jack and his pals to arrive.

My wife and I had gone to the Take That concert in Sunderland the night before so I was still in a singalong kind of mood.

All of a sudden, the front passenger door opened and Jack bounced in, while his mates clambered into the back seats in the darkness. Take That were switched off immediately and I took heed of previous warnings not to open my mouth for fear of saying anything remotely embarrassing.

I didn’t ask how the festival had gone. I didn’t ask about which bands they’d seen. I just drove in obedient silence.

We were halfway down the A1 before I finally spoke and, even then, it was only to ask Jack which of his mates needed dropping off first.

“Dave needs dropping off in Darlington and then Taylor needs dropping off in Middleton St George,”’ he mumbled.

I then went back into my non-embarrassing shell for the rest of the journey to Darlington, where we dropped off Dave, before going on to Middleton St George.

Once Taylor was safely out of the car, I felt a sense of freedom. I couldn’t embarrass Jack any more so Take That went back on – full blast – for the three-mile journey back to our home village of Hurworth.

It was one o’clock in the morning by this point and, released from the shackles of the previous 35 miles, I was transformed into Robbie Williams at his sensational best.

“NE—VER FORGET WHERE YOU’RE COMIN’ FROM...NE—VER PRETEND THAT IT’S ALL REAL…”

I belted out at the top of my voice.

And when that one was over, I ripped into: “RELIGHT MY FIRE...YOUR LOVE IS MY ONLY DESIRE...”

I wasn’t just singing, I was moving my body too. Body-popping, I think it’s called. Jack just sat there, saying nothing, but I didn’t care.

We reached Hurworth and I was just indicating to turn into our road when Jack turned the music down and said: “Dad, aren’t you going to drop Joe off?”

“Joe? Joe who?” I asked.

“You know, Joe – he’s in the back seat,”’ he replied.

I was gripped by panic. I had no idea Joe was there. He hadn’t been mentioned and hadn’t said a word.

“You told me it was just Dave and Taylor,” I protested after we’d been on a brief detour to drop off Joe.

“No, I didn’t, Dad,” Jack groaned.

“You just asked me who needed dropping off first.”

Naturally, I’d turned off Take That as soon as the truth had dawned, but it had been too late – Joe had sat through it all from Middleton St George.

He’d endured my singing and sat in the darkness behind my bodypopping.

“I wish you’d told me Joe was there,” I said to Jack as we pulled up at home. “I feel a bit of a prat.”

“You are a bit of a prat, Dad,” he sighed.

THE THINGS THEY WRITE

DIANE Cole, orginally from Forcett, near Richmond, couldn’t help smiling at the letter she found in her seven-year-old daughter’s bedroom.

“To mum, please can you tell dad in the morning not to tell me to do everything he normally tells me to, and that I don’t want him to pack all my swimming stuff cause I’m going to do it all myself – From Mealea.

PS Where is my swimming stuff?”

THE THINGS THEY SAY

AT a meeting of the Ormesby Wives Group in Middlesbrough, Florrie King told of the time she knitted grand-daughter Natalie a cardigan for her first day at nursery.

“That’s a very nice cardigan,” a teacher said to Natalie. “Where did you get it?”

“My Nanna nicked it for me,” came the reply.

ORMESBY Wives vice-president Judy Lawton told how her grandchildren have a pet cocker spaniel called Buddy, whose tooth was loose.

“What’s the going rate for the dog tooth fairy?” asked Ava, ten.

A FEW years earlier, Ava was in the car with her Grandma and Grandad and they were looking for somewhere to eat.

“If we can’t find a Little Chef, can we go in a big one?” she asked.