My daughter has brought home a school reader called Mum At Work — an admirable documentary piece which is pleasingly recognisable to us, featuring as it does a main character who works hard, solves problems, and has the rightful respect of her colleagues.
I now feel obliged to write a companion volume, Dad Writes Books At Home — less a documentary, more in the manner of an exposé, featuring as it does a main character who deletes and retypes the same sentence all day, often in his underpants, and who is mental.
I’m at that special age where I’m still young enough to sense when I’m exhibiting bum crack, but just old enough not to worry much about concealing it.
I keep going to put my phone in my pocket, but I have no pocket, because I’m wearing no pants.
Measuring my progress as a dad by my increasing willingness (nay, enthusiasm) to venture outside wearing only my underpants.
When delivery men bring me parcels I am invariably in my dressing gown. I can’t help feeling bad about that.
“Computers. How they were invented – how they work – what they can do, both now and in an exciting future.”
I wonder if K. N. Dodd Ph.D predicted that computers in his “exciting future” would mainly be used for looking at people in various stages of undress, grammatically-challenged cats, and grammatically-challenged cats with clothes on.
Accusing look from bathrobed woman doing tai chi in her courtyard makes me wonder if the windows at the office really are tinted.