I Blame the Parents

News comes our way of Old-Dad sitting on the sofa watching Doctor Who, and being handed a real-beef burger in a bun, cooked by First-Mum. OD takes the burger on its plate, using his left hand to steady the burger while he opens the lid of the bun, reaching out with his right hand for the sauce bottle on the coffee table. To do this he momentarily takes his eye off the burger, and when he looks back, having grabbed the bottle, the meat is gone. It is running at 50 mph down the lounge, in the teeth of Real-Dad Hector

OD leaps up and roars, charging down the lounge in pursuit of the escaping meal, but FM lep's up even faster and stands, arms out, barring OD's way. "Don't you touch him!" she yells - "I'll make you another one!". So Real Dad lives to fight another day, and I can blame the parents for my propensity for nicking toothbrush heads

My pic is of Meggie (right) and I looking out of the back door at an impressive thunderstorm, raging in the skies over the M2. Haggis is out there shouting at the thunder (How dare it!), but we girls are keeping dry.

Deefs