my friend Maryanne, who has relocated to Californ-i-a with hilarious results (read all about them on www.alifelessdamp.blogspot.com) has just posted about her five year old son's nocturnal habit of joining her and her husband in bed.
i warned her that she was probably in for the long haul. i regularly joined my folks until the ripe old age of 10 (though Mum would probably say 14 or 15 – you know how family like to exaggerate). for years i was woken up to the sound of a lighter being ignited as Mum lit her first fag.
here are a couple of memorable 'in bed with mother moments'
1. trying and trying to wake her up to no avail. grizzling at being an orphan only for her to wake up and ask what was the matter with me!
2. her waking me up with the news that Marc Bolan had been killed in a car crash!
3. camping in the back garden. i went to bed in the tent but mysteriously woke up in my normal position (ie between mum and dad) fully dressed and wearing my parka and wellies.
and on another note. i had another one of those 'oh my god you were so drunk' evenings on Sunday courtesy of my mate Andy (Ma) Butcher and gay bingo at the achingly fabulous shoreditch house. fortunately i didn't end up staggering around in a cheap n nasty blonde wig this time (imagine), i was however slurring somewhat. i never realised how hard bingo was. particularly speed bingo. i have new found respect for the Gala grannies who can manage multiple bingo cards and rollups at the same time. now can someone tell Ma Butcher that pink pants on anyone who is not 1) genetically female and 2) under four years of age are just plain weird.
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