Tuesday 26 September 2017


I'm very inexperienced at dealing with small children, and I find them difficult to spot. They're low down, they creep up behind you, and unlike cats and dogs, they don't seem to instinctively scuttle away from your feet. I was at a primary school summer fair once and took a few steps across the hall. In doing so I knocked about half a dozen children over like so many fleshy bowling pins.

I'd like to think that my actions are purposeful, but my friends would tell you that I'm heavy handed. Apparently I knock on the door like a debt collector, I use the light pull in the bathroom like I'm trying to climb it, and I put the iron onto the garment like I'm stamping a passport.

I was leaving a café where the door had been shut tight against the wind, the door opens inward. I opened the door briskly and to my surprise there was a small child attached to the outside handle. He'd reached above his head to grab it just as I opened the door and was whisked off his feet and thrown into the café. He flew gracefully at first, like an immature super-hero but he landed in a crying crumpled heap.

Richard "I'd make an excellent father" B

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