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with cable knit Gant jumpers over their pink hilfiger polo- tops they picked up from cheshire oaks (hate the traford centre)- 'denise will have to pick the car up in the morning I'm on my third doom bar and the rugby hasnt even kicked off yet. My eldest? Gap year. Fcuking gap year. On a kibbutz. A fcuking kibbutz. He's 6'2 now big bugger wouldnt want to cross him. Even if he is gay. Well its normal now isnt it. He's county level rowing. Out of chester. Wants his ashes scattered on the Dee. A parent should never bury his kid should he. Although he's bloody fearless. Gets it from me. And manners? He wont hear a word of blue in front of his mother. She dotes on him. She knew. Women do. I just thought he was a keen greco-roman wrestler hence the recovery sessions at the bath house in Leasowe. With his friends. Never saw it coming. But i've been out with a few of them- the curzon I think. All friendly chaps. Big buggers too. Not into all that disco noise though. Prefer the Foo fighters. Did you know Dave grohl broke his leg?