Monday, November 22, 2004

If they weren't so scary, it'd be funny. 

Picture the scene. Seven p.m. Alex is due home in an hour. Casserole bubbling away in the oven. Child fed, bathed and ready for bed. We're chilling out watching T.V and the Knock Of Doom comes.

It's zero degrees out, and there stand The Munchkins in T-shirts. They're sober! They'd been to "visit" her daughter, who is seventeen, apparently looks just like me, and has been living with her paternal grandmother:

"We're very worried about her. She's got problems. Every time we went near her, she ran away!"

Poor kid. I feel her pain.

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