APRIL FOOL

My daughter’s coming down tomorrow for the week so I was clearing and cleaning her room when the phone rang half ten or so.
‘Hello,’ I said when I picked up.
‘Hello,’ said a man’s distorted voice.
‘Oh, hello,’ realising it was my dad on the line. ‘When you get back?’
‘Last week,’ he said. ‘I’m just recovering from the jet lag.’
‘Took you that long?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Anyway we had a good time.’
‘Oh yeh?’
He told me their’s was the first cruise liner docked at Maracaibo for sixteen years. The locals treated them like royalty providing an escort wherever they went and held up traffic so they could cross roads unimpeded.
‘I’ve not seen poverty like there was in Caracas except in India,’ he said.
He mentioned the cricket and I could hear his wife in the background talking on the other phone with her son who follows the game. I mentioned the football and he said, ‘I’ve got to go.’