"What the bloody hell is that?" I asked her suspiciously, because school, Izzy and enthusiasm don't normally mix.
"Don't say bloody, it's rude," she replied indignantly.
"Sorry, I meant what the blazes is that?"
"It's a Father's Day card and I made it myself," she gushed jubilantly, as I examined her work of art whilst simultaneously thinking 'shit! Father's day is coming up soon'.
"Look, I used the D in 'Dad' and turned it into a sideways smiley face," she said.
"Did you think of that on your own?" I asked her, as she nodded vigorously.
Crikey, it's like having a little Leonardo Da Vinci around sometimes, except she doesn't invent helicopters. But then it dawned on me. We didn't have any Father's Day gifts. Sacre bleu!
In a bit of a flap, I turned to Izzy for inspiration; "can you think of a present that we can buy your Dad?" I asked.
"Yep," she immediately replied, "I want to get him some new underpants, because most of his old ones have got holes in."
I gulped. This was wrong on more than one level. Firstly, I didn't really want to know that my ex's underwear had holes in, because I could imagine where they were. Secondly, I certainly didn't want to be involved in choosing replacements. Quite simply because if you buy someone underwear, it means that you have been contemplating the dressing of their genitals.
But the ginge was adamant, so off to the shops we went to furnish Steve with some skids. After much consideration, she selected a couple of pairs of pink candy-striped boxer shorts.
"Are you happy with these?" I asked her, "or do you want to get something else?"
"I want to get him a tyre pressure gauge," she stated. That's my girl. None of the flibbertigibbet flowers and chocolate nonsense. So, once the tyre pressure gauge was procured, we were ready to rock and roll.
Steve was away for most of Father's Day, so we arranged to take him for dinner in the evening. I had arranged a 'surprise venue', i.e. a place that neither of us had eaten in before. And because I am kinder than Mother Theresa and her wing men combined, I have got some pictures for you.
Pic.No.1 The surprise venue was 'Brasserie Blanc' on Walton Street, Oxford. It was one of Raymond 'I'm quite good at cooking' Blanc's restaurants. It was very contemporary inside
Pic.No.2 Before we ordered our food, Izzy was super-chuffed to present Steve with her selection of Father's Day presents. You can see the tyre gauge on the table as he opened his underpants
He looked at the grundys, grinned, and turned to me saying, "do you still fancy me or something?"
"No, Izzy picked them for you, you numpty," I replied.
Luckily the waiter turned up at that moment to take our orders.
Pic.No.3 I was feeling quite adventurous, so I decided to order something I didn't think I would like - mackerel salad (on the whole I think fish is minging - all eyes, scales and bones). But it was bloody delicious
Pic.No.4 Steve bravely ordered Steak Tartare. If you live over the pond you probably won't have this on your menu's. Basically it is seasoned raw steak mince with a raw egg on the top. I tried a bit and it was scrumptious
Pic.No.5 And for main course (entree if you are foreign), I abandoned all sense of adventure to plump for a good old-fashioned roast dinner. Look! The beef was cooked medium-rare, my favourite. But I did have to ask for extra gravy because there were a bit tight with it
Pic.No.6 Me and my nipper. I love pictures with me in
The food in Brasserie Blanc was indeed very good, and most reasonably priced. But most of all, Izzy had a brilliant time with her Dad. And she told me she can't wait to show me a picture of: 'Daddy in his new undies'. That's something to look forward to next week.
So dahlink, did you celebrate any form of Father's Day? Just off to get myself a glass of Bolly before I hear all about it.