Oh, I’m feeling so old
It seems just minutes since I was changing toxic nappies or cleaning projectile vomit from the curtains.
Yet just today I found myself arranging for my daughter’s first voting form.
‘Well you know everything, so who should I vote for?’ Despite the little brat’s attitude, I was determined to give a fair appraisal of Engand’s political climate.
‘Well Your mum and I have always voted for the ***** party. The *****party has no discernible policies and will never get into power, so why waste your vote? While the *****party bring the country to bankruptcy every time they get into power. And as for the *****party,’ I continue to my bemused offsrpring, ‘they’re a bunch of sandal wearing whale huggers who’d ban all cars from England.’
Notice the way I’m not pressurizing my poor car-mad daughter on on her first forray into the adult world
‘And unless you want to spend the rest of your time until you leave home sleeping in the garden, then it’s the *****party.’
‘Alright then. I’ll vote for who you like if we can have a new dog.’
I’ve seen the mutt she wants. It looks like a mutated pomeranian crossed with a rat.
But more to the point, was she really suggesting that I polute my political integrerity for the sake of a dog?
Apparently the kennel is going to be blue.