This weekend my brothers and I are going to take my Da horse racing.
He has loved it for years. When we were growing up, every time we passed a certain field he'd tell us that Quare Times, who won the 1955 Grand National, lived there.
Sadly, this love seems to have skipped a generation because we haven't a clue about the 'Sport of Kings'.
We'll just place our bets entirely on the basis of his advice. I know people who study the form and take the goings and prevailing weather conditions into account.
We're more at the "I'll bet on that horse because he looks happy" end of the scale.
Bringing the Da for a day out is the least I can do really. He's always been so supportive of me doing comedy.