Having a surprisingly pleasant dinner with the family tonight, despite Mrs T and I feeling a bit under the weather and apparently “milking it”. But clearing this up; milking it, as parents who cook their food, clean their clothes, clean the house, act as taxis for wherever and whenever the hell they want to go, all the time, including these last few days when we have apparently been milking it, is nothing short of a public scandal.  

I ended up being sent away to school and so the stress lines in my mother and father’s faces were smoothed down with a holiday to Crete, or a weekend break to Paris. Christ knows, they had it bloody easy, but would I send my kids away to school?

Let me elucidate things for you, first of all why would I? Much as I curse and complain, I wouldn’t have it any other way, it’s actually great to see them grow up, to speak to them and form bonds hopefully which will last for as long as I’m around or as long as i’m lucid enough to be understood. Secondly I have no money to send them away, and i’m sure if I did, I wouldn’t spend it on a vastly inflated education when theres a perfectly fine secondary state school just down the road, or college which is a hop and a skip onto the train. Not at all, I’d be taking my kids to Paris and Crete and heve them insult and demand and huff and puff in the knowledge that I can ignore them and sooner or later they’ll be nice, those moments are precious.

We thought when we refused our daughter permission to go and see her friend this evening, just as the lights were drawing in, as it would mean a walk in the dark through the woods which at this time of year are particularly eerie with the mammals snuffling and leaping about, she’d shit herself and then someone; me, would have to go and pick her up from somewhere irritatingly close but far enough to have to drive. So she sulked, sat on the stairs and was silent, which is the worst, I couldn’t see her and didn’t hear her move so assumed she was there and kept quiet.

Dinner was approved by both of them, spag bol, and after we finished we continued to chat, my daughter telling us a boy she’d never spoken to before told her she looked like ex-porn star Lana Rhodes, google her, she’s hot! But now I have disturbing visions of my daughter the porn star, a month ago when she tried to weave eyelashes onto her face and had an allergic reaction, made her look like a porn star in my eyes. Christ now apparently some strange boy said so too!

Later when my daughter told her friends,

“Do you know that bloke said I looked like the ex-porn star Lana Rhodes?”

They all chorused,

“Yea, I can see that”

So its not just one teenager’s private fantasy, seems like a few folks had thought this. Blimey, where does one go with that? Apart from I’m pretty safe in the knowledge that my daughter isn’t a porn star and will hopefully be perusing a career in accountancy. Thats what being a Dad does to you, sensible trousers and sensible shoes.