I came across that photo of you and Dad the other day-you know, the one from your first date. The one where you look a bit weird, cause you've just thrown up...
Anyhow, it just reminded me how much I loved it when you used to tell me about how you two got together; all the stuff about how he'd come into the jeans shop in Camden High Street where you worked and try on loads of different pairs every week, just to have an excuse to talk to you. (He never brought any, did he?)
And better than that was how you used to spend your lunch-hours in the bike shop he worked in across the street, buyig a bell one day, a bicycle pump the next, even a puncture-repair kit.
Then when he finally did ask you out, it wasn't till that first date that he found out you didn't even have a bike. It was so sweet the way you told Dad that you didn't mind about him getting the cinemas mixed up that first night out together, and taking you to see a horror movie by accident. Even though horror movies and the sight of blood made you feel ill. And it was really sweet of Dad to still fancy you after you threw up on his lap.
True love.
After all that, I guess I wouldn't have been in the mood to hand someone my camera like you did and get them take a photo of the two of you (I hope not, under the circumstances), but it was still one of the most romantic stories I've ever heard-even if there weren't exactly string orchestras playing in the background and rose petals raining from the sky. Hope it happens to me like that one day (but minus the part about being sick). Not so long ago, I thought I might ... and that was also right about the time when me and Linn and Rowan started to realize that Dad had found someone to replace you. I suppose you'd better hear this from the beginning...
Love you lots,
Ally
(your Love Child No. 3)
