Parents

Now let me tell you this, last week Ingrid Lamb, my friend and long time object of my affection, told me that she felt I was still holding something back in my blog. Now, Ingrid is Australian so it's not unusual for something silly (and often inaudible) to come out of her mouth but what she said actually made some sense.

(At this point I am concerned that you may have seen the title and think Ingrid Lamb is my mother. She is not. Firstly, I find her attractive so that would just be weird. Secondly, as previously stated she hails from the land of Koala Bears and Wallabies so if she was my Mum that would make me a bit Australian and I don't use the phrases "bloody sheilas" and "flaming galah" anywhere near enough to be an Aussie.)

So, in an attempt to give you alot more of me I have decided to write about something very close to my heart. My parents.

Being older than most people here I tend to have older parents. Come to think of it they have always been old, even before I was older than everyone else.

An example of the difference between my parents and the parents of my (insert sarcasm) esteemed peers is the use of technology. Most parents nowadays are as well versed as their kids when it comes to using gadgets, computers etc, whereas my parents are still coming to terms with the invention of electricity. The only power their generation is familiar with is flower power.

Whilst most speak to their parents via webcams on Skype, or via Facebook, or MSN, I speak to mine using the trusty old telephone. The problem with this is that my Dad still thinks you need to shout when on a mobile, and my Mum, well she is just scared of phones altogether. You think I joke, but she openly admits that she hates using the phone. She fears it ringing. And when she does pick up, well she always sounds suprised that there is someone else on the other end despite the fact it has been ringing for 3 minutes whilst she is still realising that the ringing is coming from her phone and not the phone in the lastest Inspector Poirot mystery she is watching on television.

Some fear heights, some spiders, some the dark. My mother fears phones. When she does call she carefully rehearses her introduction. Mum, I know its you, you don't have to introduce yourself! But what happens when I don't pick up and it goes to answerphone? This flusters her. She now has about 5 seconds to rehearse a message. This spells disaster. Just the other day I woke to the following voicemail. "Hi Mum! No, oh, no. I mean hi Sam it's Mum. Oops. I'm going mad!"

Another thing with older parents is they can't get names of famous people or brands right. Instead of JJB Sports, it's JB sports. Instead of Go Ahead Bars, it's Go Bars. And my personal favourite from some years back. Instead of Daniel Beddingfield, it's Dereck Bedfield.

Dereck Bedfield? He's sounds like the kind of guy who wears a flat cap and breeds carrier pigeons!

My Dad is now on Facebook, which still amuses me. He is from Oldham, in Greater Manchester. He used to work in a cotton mill as a child. And now he is on Facebook. Oh how the world has changed.

Frank Holden, or Big F as he is sometimes known, is the definition of old school. He is a typical Dad.

He gets angry if someone parks outside the house because it's "his space". If something electrical breaks in the house, whether its a lamp or electric tin opener, it's always because of "those bloody things you've been downloading on the t'internet Sam!" And if anyone touches his Logic Problems puzzle book, which he has a monthly subscription to by the way, there is hell to pay.

It is a great source of amusement for me and my sister that our Dad is Northern. He says things funny. Things like "Bloody hell fire!" And he tells stories of when "those bloody Nazi's bombed our chippy!"

Despite all these strange little nuances I think my parents are the best in the world and I love them very much. They are the most intelligent, generous, kind, hard working people you could ever meet. Which begs the question, what the hell happened to me?