Whenever I asked for something that was extravagant, or just plain ridiculous, my mother used to say to me "Where do you think you are? Daddy's yacht?"
"Mum," I'd say, (Mostly because I didn't know my mother well enough to call her Phyllis) "Can we have ice cream and jelly for supper?"
"Where do you think you are? Daddy's yacht?" She'd reply.
For hours, and often days, after hearing my mother utter these words I would ponder why my dad hadn't told me that he had a yacht or where it was berthed. Another question I pondered on was, how did my dad pay for his yacht on only the salary of an electrician?
The worst thing was that in his younger years my dad was in the navy and I gave serious consideration to the idea that when you left the navy they gave you a boat. The higher up the chain of command you were the bigger the boat you got. Admirals got large flagships, Captains got smaller destroyer type boats and electricians got a nice little yacht. It seemed the most sensible way that my dad had managed to get his, oft mentioned, yacht.
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