There was some big horse race on Tuesday.  The Melbourne... something or other.

Earlier that same morning, my father flew in from Canada for a couple of weeks.  We wound up driving around the northern beaches with a guest who was in Australia for the first time and settled in for lunch at a local pub that was being frequented by a lot of patrons who were clearly dressed for the races.

This kind of occasion can be good for kinky people like me in that it gives one the chance to indulge in a spot of vanilla fetish spotting.  There were plenty of kinky heels that would not have looked out of place at R&R or Hellfire or the like.  We talked briefly about racing (none of us were really interested in it) before the conversation strayed towards the impractical and perilous shoes being worn by some of the women in attendance.  Dad said he couldn't imagine how they walk around in those things, before adding "of course, I don't object that they wear them.  Not. At. All."

I've heard it said that there are two groups of people who never have sex.  Your parents and your children.  Dad and I never talk about anything personal let alone kinky.  (I told mum last Christmas and she said she was going to tell him, but even if he knows about me being kinky we will never speak about it with each other, which suits both of us just fine.)

Still, I thought to myself "Were my father and I siimultaneously having a perve?"

He's my father.  He's 65.  Why does this surprise me?  He's a red blooded heterosexual man.  Why shouldn't he have a perve?

OK, so maybe it's not something for the WHOLE family, but it was an amusing moment shared between a father and son separated by 33 years.