Thursday, April 26, 2007

Frank Sinatra Times

Is it that late in my life already? Is ist, if not mine, the autumn of my dad's year yet? You know, sometimes, I feel really young. Then I realize that I am indeed not as young as my occasional lack in manners would have me think, and then I feel really old. But is it time yet for my parents to start getting funny? Like, in the head? Or rather, for my dad, because talking about my mother would probably require a whole blog for itself. (www.ineedashrinklikeseriously.blogspot.com)

So, ok, my dad. Wunderful person, tought me to accept whatever sort of of people, I inherited his eyes, his obsession with harmony and his tendency to tell the same pointless stories over and over again. (A quality which will feature prominently in the following account.) But sometimes I think he IS going funny.

On Sunday, I discovered that he had called me on my mobile and left a message on the mailbox. Having told him I would be in Edinburgh until this wednesday, I though it must be pretty important, so I ground my teeth and spent about five quid checking the message, which went as follows: "Hello, daughter. Where are you? I never reach you! I just wnated to tell you that I finished the little text I wrote for Ingeborg's birthday and that I sent it to you. The red parts will be yours to read out." And so on and so on. Aaaargh. Not only was it a mesage of let's say limited importance, I also knew everything it said already as I had talked to my dad about that matter not so long ago.

Ok, what the heck. So I sent him a text saying "I am in Edinburgh, calling is rediculuosly expensinve, coming back on Wednesday and calling you then."

Then, on descending from Arthur's Seat on Monday evening, my mobile rang again, betraying the caller's identity by displaying the words "Papa Festnetz". So I thought, "Now this must be really important, after all I just sent him a text last night to say that I'm abroad." So I answered the phone and here is the ensuing dialogue:

"Where are you? I never reach you! I just wanted to tell you about this littel text..."
"IknowIknowIknowIknow all about it...!"
"Gee, child, where are you, the reception is something dreadful!"
"I am in E-DIN-BURGH! and it is reallyreallyreally expensive to talk on the mobile!"
"You're in Scotland? Since when? When you coming back?"
"Dad, I told you I would be in Scotland until wednesday. You just HAVE to start actually reading the text messages you get!"
"I didn't get any!"
"You must have, check your phone again!"
"Child, I can hardly understand you, I will call you at home when you return."
"Yes dad, that is a really really good Idea!"

It is like you have to write him little notes for important things so he doesn't forget. You shouldn't do that to people younger than 80, and he's not even 55.
And the story goes on.

Due to not having slept enough during the past week AND the fact that I had to get my head round the pseudo-problems of the Froggies this morning at eight, I went to bed at half nine. At eleven, the telephone rang and tore me out of a rather pleasant dream. It was my dad. I was still half asleep and couldn't even pronouncce my name, so I answered the phone with a simple "Yes?".
"Hello, daughter! Did I wake you up?"
"Yep."
"Since when are you in bed that early?" (What's wrong with those people? Bad enough that my mother thinks all I ever do in my life is party hard, but now my dad starts the same shit!)
"There's this funny place I go to... 'S called Uni or something and I have to be there at eight tomorrow, so I have to get up at six, so that's why I went to bed early and why I was asleep and why I am really really tired."
"Alright. So, you were in Scotland, were you?"
"Yes, so I was and I know for a fact I told you about it."
"Aha. Well, maybe you did. Ok. (leisurely) I just wanted to tell you about the text I wrote..."
GEEZUZ! "Yea, I know all about it, Dad, the red passages will be mine to read out. Why didn't you email it?"
"Oh, you know, I had to print it out anyway"(?)"so I thought I might as well send it per mail."
Surrendering, and also very tired: "......Hmmm............Fair enough."
"Did you talk to your sister yet about when you are planning to come to Hannover on Saturday?"
"No, didn't, but I gather that will take about fifteen seconds to organze - Heya, we're leaving Berlin at noon. - Fine, suits me well. - Good. - Good. - Seeya the morrow. - See ya."
"Ok, it's just that you have two options. One is going to Ingeborg's place first..."
"And the other is going to the hotel directly. I know. It's all in the invitation."
"No, it isn't."
"Then how come I know about it?"
"Hhm. Might have told you already."
"...Yep... That might be an option."

He the proceeded to tell me something I absolutely cannot remember, as I was constantly on the brink of falling asleep again.

On the other hand, I am sure he will tell me again when I see him on Saturday.
So, here's to you, Dad. For your next birthday, I will give you a bunch of post-it notes.

No comments: