Devil Children

Children, don’t have them; is the only message to take away from our hero’s weekend.

Friday night he headed out with a whole host of people from work to celebrate his good friend, Sedgers, 20th anniversary with the firm. He then promptly forgot that he had agreed to go round the lovely Helen’s for supper. Fortunately she sent him a text to remind him and he managed to lie sufficiently well to convince her that he had not forgotten her. After a fine supper of lamb tagine they hit the bars of Clifton and cut quite the dash.

Obviously Saturday had the prospect of being a bit of a write off but fortunately the lovely Claire insisted that they do something and so they headed off to The Vine Tree in Norton were they bumped into his good chum Tails (passim) and his wife Jo. The Vine Tree is a fine country pub and we can record that it is well deserving of its recent awards from the Good Pub Guide; although he rather spoilt the effect by tucking into the dessert menu (and dessert wine) with rather too much gusto for his own good.

Despite being the size of a house and barely able to fit behind the wheel of his car after this over-fine repast he dropped the lovely Claire home and set off up to his mother’s in Surrey.

Despite the best efforts of some idiot who had spun his car and closed the motorway thanks to a healthy disrespect for the speed limit laws he managed to get up in a tolerably reasonable time and they enjoyed a first class curry from The Raj in Purley (now if they don’t give him a discount next time we will be very upset) (I thought we had agreed that journalistic integrity prevented such shameless advertising? – ed).

Now we get to the meaty bit. Sunday was a day with the family. His sister, brother (in law), nieces, uncle and aunt all descended on his mother’s. His middle niece (Phoebe) is a charming girl…er, well if the truth is she is not; she is a devil child. She felt the need to remind everyone of her charming powers by sticking her hands in her shitty nappy and plastering her faeces all over the walls, drawers, wardrobe and television in our hero’s old bedroom. Suffice to say he has struck her out of his will. Horrid child.

We would like to report that she made up for her excreta based fun by being a charming little girl for the rest of the day. Sadly we can’t. She managed to smear taramasalata and hummus all over the shop. His mother’s carpet will never be the same again.

Now usually he tends to want to hang around at his mother’s and get fed. Remarkably he didn’t feel so inclined this weekend. The shit and general detritus of Phoebe didn’t really appeal and so he headed back to sunny Bristol early doors.

Having got back to Bristol the lovely Dennis suggested that a nice bottle of red wine on a school night would be a good idea. He forgot to disagree. Around 0200 she asked if it was wrong to open a second bottle. Again he forgot to disagree. Around 0400 this morning they called it a night. Oh dear. Today was not a fun day at work.