I'd always had a great relationship with my Dad, but this day sticks out in my mind as that pinnacle moment when I went from child to adult (17).
My mum had been so excited, she had been out and finally bought the, and yes I do quote, "Rug of her dreams", Dad didn't look too impressed. This was a white rug that was to be the central focal point of the living room and went perfectly with the new fireplace around our open fire. No one was allowed to walk on it, no one was allowed near it. I wouldn't have been surprised if Mum had put cling film over it until the "special guest came around".
Fast forward 2 days, I'd been to a McDonald's drive thru for me and my Dad.
No idea where Mum and my sister were, but inevitably, I pass my Dad a large chocolate milkshake... across the "Rug of Dreams", and he drops it...
What can only be described as a cowpat of thick chocolate milkshake hits the rug and immediately soaks in. What followed was a rush to the kitchen, not for any cleaning products or sponges, but for lighter fluid and matches. I watched in horror as dad burnt the rug until all that was left was a smouldering hole where the milkshake had landed.
“A log spat out the fire, set light to the rug, we are lucky to be alive, now eat up and throw those wrappers in next doors bin. I hated that rug anyway” We never spoke about it again, but mum did then buy a fire guard, but never replaced the rug.