He had to wait until the train, a limited stop, reached Swindon and he had to get the next train back, costing him the same fair he'd paid in the first place.I laughed; he just said, "win a few, lose a few..." I hated that aspect of him, which was strange as he thought it was a habit that should be encouraged and represented the true entrepreneurial spirit.Parker Wallace was a driven man, and had been since before we married.
I'd met him just twice leading up to our wedding, and on both occasions he spoke of the wonderful present he was getting for us with a glint in his eye, something that would set us up for our life together.
Parker said 'Yeah, OK Dad.' He knew him better than that.
But no, as far as he was concerned it was free, so he had to have it.
He binned it once I told him how they were registered on line and someone that lost it could be tracking its use.
His Dad was a premier bullshit artist, and some days made a good living, sometimes none at all.
He spent his time looking for 'that deal', the one that would put him and his family on easy street, not because he was good but because he was convinced that he was, and that it was his 'turn'.
At our wedding, his Dad was full of jovial bonhomie in his suit and tie, and it wasn't until the next day when we were taking all of our gifts back to the house we were renting that I came across a white envelope marked 'To Mr and Mrs Wallace, lots of love Dad.' Inside was sixty five pound in cash, and I can still remember the denominations; one £20 note, two tenners and five £5 notes.
I wouldn't have minded but my Mum and Dad had pretty much paid for the reception and given us three hundred pounds for incidentals. "Check the twenty," he said, "It's probably fake." Much as Parker disavowed his Dad, as the years went on, he gradually turned into him.
Anyway, they'll claim it back on the insurance..." Insurance, don't get me started; he was riding in my brother's car when he reversed into a low railing with the tiniest bump.
Next thing I knew he was suing my brother for whiplash, again he insisted, "I'm not suing your brother, I'm suing his insurance company, it's not his money..." My brother was a new driver and paying through the nose for his car insurance.
He was so mean that he once even took a coffee shop points card, which is strange, he doesn't drink coffee; but he went into the nearest shop, asked how much was on the card, and spent the next few weeks going into the shop and buying tea until the £9 was used up.