Telephone Conversations with my son Andy, By Graham Hadfield 1,138 words

Me: Have you read my creative writing yet?

Andy: No, I’m doing my politics essay.

Me: Read it now and then text me to tell me how brilliant it is.

Andy: Would you like some constructive criticism?

Me: No.

Andy: I want to read you the beginning of my dissertation to see what you think.

Me: What is the title?

Andy: Unravelling the Causes of the Russian Invasion of Crimea in 2014: A

Comparative Analysis of Classical Liberalism and Offensive Realism Perspectives.

Me: If you must but for god’s sake read it slowly.

Andy: It’s a beautiful sunny day here.

Me: Have you put on your sun cream?

Andy: No I’m broke. I don’t have the money for it.

Me: It only costs £6.

Andy: I have to have special sun cream or I come out in spots.

Me: Here we go again, presumably you also have to bathe in asses milk.

How much does it cost?

Andy: £15.

Me: I will transfer the money to you on the strict understanding that you don’t

spend it on food.

Andy: What’s up?

Me: Just been to the gym and run a mile.

Andy: Very impressive.

Me: Don’t try and match me Andy. With your level of fitness you would have to

build up to the mile very slowly, I would start by seeing if you can run to the end

of the road first without collapsing in a heap.

Andy: I don’t like running.

Me Next time you come to the Isle of Wight we can do a run together.

Andy: I’ll tell you what, you can run and I’ll walk alongside.

Me: Very drôle Andy.

Andy: I’ve just done my shift at WH Smith. My favourite co-worker is a little

Vietnamese man. If someone comes into the store who looks a little dodgy he

follows them round the store saying repeatedly “Please don’t steal”.

Me: That’s brilliant. How do people react?

Andy: Someone rather gave the game away today when they turned on him and

said this store has nothing worth stealing.

Me: You remember how my sister in law who runs an international cosmetics

company told me that I have very beautiful skin for a person of my age.

Andy: Yes you mention it frequently.

Me: It’s made me very protective of my skin. Sometimes I am walking down the

street and think my skin could do with a little moisturiser. I wear sun cream all

the year round.

Andy: Yes I know.

Me: At the start of each ramble I ask if anyone has forgotten their 50 factor sun

cream and would like to use mine. Inevitably a little voice pipes up saying they

think a little sun is good for them, vitamin D and all that. I turn to face them

and invariably find I am gazing into a face that looks like a weathered prune.

Andy: This new guy Simon I’m working with at WH Smith’s is driving me crazy.

Me: Why?

Andy: He is 29 years old and lives with his mother.

Me: So.

Andy: It’s the things he says.

Me: Like what?

Andy: He says my mother wants me to find a pretty lady to marry.

Me: Oh dear.

Andy: I asked him whether he had ever had a girlfriend.

Me: What was his reply?

Andy: Oh yes, I’ve been a naughty boy in the past.

Me: He sounds like Michael Crawford in Some Mothers do have em.

Andy: Whose that?

Me: Before your time. Research him on Youtube.

Me: Andy, I’ve just had a brilliant business idea.

Andy: What’s that?

Me: It’s an old people’s home with a twist.

Andy: What’s the twist?

Me: You guarantee that within a year you will have persuaded the old person to

take assisted suicide.

Andy: Ohhh kay

Me: The slight business flaw is that you will be unable to charge those exorbitant

fees year after year while you keep the old person hanging on by a thread.

Andy: Have you talked about this with anyone else?

Andy: I’ve just been concussed.

Me: How?

Andy: I was getting something low down behind the counter at WH Smith’s when

one of my co-workers opened a draw above my head without telling me.

Me: Was that Simon?

Andy: How did you guess?

Me: Did he apologise?

Andy: Yes, I wanted to smash his face in.

Me: I can’t wait until I am seen at the local GP’s by an AI robot rather than a

physical doctor.

Andy: Why’s that?

Me: More reliable diagnosis and less embarrassing.

Andy: How less embarrassing?

Me: Let’s take a hypothetical case? Say your problem was erectile dysfunction.

Who would you prefer to discuss it with, a robot or a smirking female GP?

Andy: Yes but wouldn’t you miss the human interaction?

Me: You mean the caring voice they put on and the sympathetic hand across the

table when they tell you have six months to live. No.

Actually I told the GP last time I visited that his job was threatened by advances

in AI.

Andy: I bet that went down really well.

Me: Yes, now I think about it he did seem a bit put out.

Andy: I was outraged in my seminar today when someone accused me of coming

from a privileged background

Me: The problem is your accent Andy

Andy: I explained to them that unlike many people at the LSE I don’t have a

trust fund to fall back on. As a child I qualified for free school meals and went to

the local comprehensive rated as a failing by Ofsted.

Me: I wish I’d been there. It must have been like a lecture from Jacob Rees-Mogg

about his tough upbringing on a council estate.

Andy: Ha ha very funny.

Me Andy about your updated cv.

Andy: Yes what did you think?

Me It didn’t give enough prominence to your time in Home Education with me.

Andy: How was I supposed to do that?

Me: Well I seem to remember that you once won a finger painting competition. .

You could stick that in your list of achievements. It might provoke a weak smile

in your reader and differentiate your cv from the rest.

Andy: A definite no to that.

Andy: Guess what I’m doing all morning.

Me I don’t know

I’m writing letters to various charities who give educational bursaries to see if

they will contribute to my fees at the LSE.

Me Doesn’t sound much fun.

Andy: Yesterday I received a letter back from a charity that I’d previously applied

to saying that I didn’t meet their criteria.

Me: Oh I’m sorry to hear that.

Andy: I’m going to send them a snotty letter back.

Me: You can’t do that Andy.

Andy: Oh yes I can.