Week 1

The first evening Pops was here he opened the fridge, examined the contents, and said "Now that is a properly stocked fridge." This was also the night he told me that the service had improved over last year... Mind you, it is early days.
He has been spoiled, getting Irish food for his dinners: bangers/mash/onion gravy, boiled bacon/calcannon, and oxtail stew. There was one night where he got scrambled eggs on toast with loads of tea (it reminded me of his Thursday night golf outings when he was young; occasionally, that was what I would have made for him on his return if he had missed Mom's dinner). It is funny what makes me nostalgic...
Jet lag is still affecting him. He is convinced he is not sleeping well, but since I can hear him snoring in the mornings while I wander around doing my morning routine--and checking email/facebook for contacts from his already missed family members (he and I have decided that none of them love us. Out of sight, out of mind...) He is also not great about answering the phone when I ring to check how he is doing, and the ring is quite loud, so again I am pretty sure he is sleeping like a log.

My friend, Herman, called over for dinner last night. He arrived loaded down with gifts, the profiteroles in particular were a huge hit with Pops. Herman and I gossip galore when we are together, and Pops enjoys hearing all the gory details. Occasionally, the bushy eyebrows do shoot up followed by a nervous "heh, heh". The two of them have known each other a good few years at this stage, and are buddies. Of course, this means the two sometimes gang up on me... never-ending slagging. I like to think that I give as good as I get though.
Tonight Pops gets to meet some of my work crowd. I am going to park him somewhere in town while I participate in the scavenger hunt, and when I know the name of the pub we will all be gathering in this evening for free food/drinks, I will collect him. He will be pacing his drinks, having plenty of water between gin and tonics. He knows it is not worth the agony of my giving out to him not to do so. He and I have a bet that he cannot get my local pub's bar staff to serve him a brandy, cognac, or whiskey. Herman was encouraging him when we told him about the bet and gave him tips on winning. Again, I am not sure winning that particular bet with be worth the grounding I give Pops if he succeeds. (It is not that I dislike losing, I swear.)