Yesterday was spent on paintwork. Stripping the aftermath of a disastrous home respray about a decade ago from the bonnet (tr for non-Brits: hood) of my old wreck and spraying a good thick coat of grey zinc phosphate primer. Sanding down some of my horrific bodging, smoothing off the rough surfaces.
Me and my dad, working on an old car on a Bank Holiday afternoon.
By now my mother will have had the Long Chat with him. I'm sure his reaction will be similar to my mother's, but like her he'll never look at me in quite the same way again. My file will have a Post-it note with "Transgendered" written on it stuck to its cover forever more.
So I've had my last unencumbered bloke-only afternoon with my dad.
My first "last".