My ma's going to the shops. I decide to accompany her. I'd forgotten my toothbrush (Don't Forget Your Toothbrush! I met Evans once, on the Heath. I smile at the memory) and my b o basher.
"You accompanying your mother?" says my dad at the front door as we leave.
"Yes, if I stay in my dressing gown all day I'll think that I'm ill and I don't want to be ill."
(We did actually talk in French but I was always hopeless at spelling, not much better at grammar so I'll spare myself the trouble)
It'll take too long to write up our shopping trip but at some point as I wheeled the giant trolley with my chest and my mum hobbled along on a crutch, I wondered if me and my mum were both children. Then I wondered if we were both old people.
I told her I was thinking this because I thought it was quite funny.
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