Wednesday, 28 November 2012
Louis the french truck driver
Today we discovered there may be an explanation for why i am how i am. When everyone else was a little kid being read wonderful fairy-tales about knights in shinning Armour and Princesses being rescued by Princes. Well i was being told about Louis. The french truck driver. Up until today i thought this was totally and completely normal. I said in passing about my dad telling me stories about Louis, and Danni stopped me in shock, horrified i never had the normal Princess tale.
So apparently it wasn't the done thing? My bed time stories were alllll about Louis, who wore a ring of garlic around his neck and spoke with a thick french accent (which my dad did with such vigor and conviction it was like he was born in Paris). Louis would go on all sorts of adventures, some times he would encounter hitchhikers, sometimes he would have mechanical problems and be stranded on the side of the road (i was too young to know that the RAC or AA existed). My dad would write down all these stories he made up on the outside of a shoebox, it was covered with louis' magical french expeditions. You know what, other little girls may have grown up wanting to meet a prince and live in a castle. But give a shit, my dad embodied a french truck driver. Suckas.