Christmas with dad

Not much to report back on. Returned to work today after the festivities, reception is closed but they need one member of each team in the office to man the phone. I volunteered as I have little else to do and my internet is down at home. I always feel a bit deflated returning to work after Christmas, it's the same flat feeling I used to get when my dad used to remove his funny clown outfit at the end of my birthday parties as a boy. He made a good funny man did Dad, he still does. This Christmas Eve he bet me five quid that I couldn't balance a pint on the back of each hand, so there I was sat at the table in a packed pub balancing two full pints when he promptly walked out. I was sweating, trying not to spill any beer whilst slowly edging my hands from under each pint glass as he waved at me through the window and holding my wallet aloft in his other hand. Cheeky scoundrel then waltzed off to the next pub. I was stuck (and laughed at by a variety of people) for twenty minutes before one of the bar staff rescued me. In fact I was close to giving up and spilling the both pints of beer across the table, though the group of hard nuts sat across from me prevented that. I caught up with Dad further down the street where he bought me a drink, broadcasted the prank to anyone within earshot and gave me a friendly pat on the back. Little did I know that he was sticking a 'Kick me' sign on my back. Until the gang of hard nuts from earlier entered the bar and bgan treating my behind like a football. Dad's school boy pranks continued into Christmas day, I heard he loaded up his fiance's hair dryer with baby powder and being short sighted she didn't notice until she was enveloped in a cloud of dust and he presented me with a rogue chilli chocolate hidden amongst the Quality Street. He's a rum 'un, but I love him.