Further to Mum’s period of short release from the shackles of the kitchen sink, the clock had been reset and the points had begun clocking up again for…. ooh, all of about 36 days. 1,642 lie-ins and countless curry nights/football matches/boys’ nights later, his time had come.
Sold on the premise of a “work trip” [oh & the promise of a not-quite-100%-kosher “designer” handbag], I selflessly agreed to let him loose in Dubai: Sumptuous city of gold. Sensational city of dreams. Sky-scraping city of “The Future”. Continue reading “Dad on Tour”