GARY LINEKER'S DAD SHOWS UP... AND SO DOES MINE

No work again today. I considered going in and spluttering over my colleagues but in the interest of politics I decided against it. Also, they all, to a man, would have looked at me with derision for going back on a Friday, even if I were able to complete a full day's work. I emailed my manager and carefully explained that I hoped to feel much better on Monday.

Gary Lineker's dad turned up today to inspect his work. I listened from my room as they bantered about circular saws, football and the awful traffic between here and Wickes, the builders merchants.

"Yeah well that shower tray didn't turn up till Wensdy," said Gary.

"Sounds about right."

"Still the towlin's done."

"Good work son, good work."

The tiling is indeed done. This afternoon when they'd gone, I noticed too, that they'd cleverly removed all the dust sheets, the rubble and the old bits of bathroom from the drive, meaning that the house was about as acceptable as it could have been by the time the Intrepids arrived home from Ireland.

Though disappointingly, we're still without a basin or a shower. I have to be honest, the Intrepids seem less concerned about it than I thought they would. A couple of cold mornings getting washed with a washing up bowl on a spread-out bath-towel might make it less comfortable, I'd wager.

It's pretty difficult at the moment, to work out whether or not they had a nice time in Ireland. They sort of said they did, but didn't really go into much detail. The first thing Mum had to do was to call all three of my sisters, a ritual which takes up quite a time. The first thing my Dad had to do was to ask me whether I'd put the bin out, and the second thing he did was to look pleasantly surprised and oddly proud when I told him that I had. 

"Good work son, good work," he almost said.

Beyond that, the TV was flicked on and while my Mum chatted away to each daughter in turn, my Dad was engrossed once again in Celebrity Mastermind.