Age is not relative to the Relative

Even at the tender age of... um... 44, my parents still worry about me. I don't mind the concern, I think it's quite natural for any parent to worry about a child, no matter how old they are. What does drive me slightly up the wall are the questions from my Father. He asks me the same sorts of questions as he did when I was 17. 

Before I had a car I would have to rely on British Rail to get back to London after a weekend at their house. Sometimes, before I had even got through the front door, my Father would ask, "Now Darling, don't take this the wrong way, I don't want to get rid of you, but what time is your return train?" My usual response was, "Oh for God's sake Daddy, I've only just got here!"" in a fairly stroppy tone. The following morning, still only 12 hours into my visit, the question would most likely appear again over breakfast. "Any idea what train you're getting back?" One of my "looks" would usually stand in for a negative.  


Since acquiring a car, however, the train questions were blissfully void. Joy. What I hadn't bargained for we're a brand new set of concerns, and with new concerns came new questions. At the end of every weekend, my parents will come outside with me to the car and wave me off. Daddy will inevitably ask me the following questions before I've even started the engine:


Have you got enough petrol? 

Yes Daddy.
Do you need some money?
No thanks.
Are you sure?
YES thank you.
Checked your oil and water?
Uh huh.
Tires?
YESSS.
When does your tax disc run out?
This is when I sometimes pretend I haven't heard so he'll walk round the car to check the windscreen.
Do you know it runs out next month?
Yes I do.
Did you remember or are you just saying that?
YES, of course I remembered, I'm not 12! (sounding very much like a 12 year old)
Have you got enough money to pay the tax?
Yes Daddy.
Kisses, hugs, quickly in reverse. 
Call us when you get back to London darling.
Will do.... Byeeeeee.

I've got quite used to it now, in fact I quite look forward to it but today I got into my car with not one question. Weird, not normal. Then I realised it might be because of an email I sent him last week, an email pre-empting every question he might possibly ask me before I fly to America tomorrow. "Traveling abroad" questions from my Father are in a different league. When my sister and I took my Mother to Morocco last year I spent 2 days writing an itinerary for him with flights, names, numbers and times of every single thing we were doing while we were there. It was much appreciated. So I thought to save him the bother I would do the same with my trip to the States.


My email began with my flight details and who was picking me up from the airport but then I added:


And before you ask...

Yes, my passport is valid until 2014
Yes, I have my new visa waiver
Yes, I have travel insurance
Yes, I have enough of all medications
Yes, I have my driving licence (both parts)
Yes, I have enough money and
Yes, I have an emergency credit card.
If I've missed anything, I will stand on one leg and sing the national anthem in your driveway. Love me x


This morning, Dad remembered something I had forgotten and demanded I go and sing in the driveway. I persuaded him that since it had taken him 5 days to come up with anything, the forfeit should be cancelled.


But yes, just to reassure you Pops:

I have a photocopy of all my prescriptions just in case my bags get lost.


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