I should have posted this yesterday but I spent most of it in bed with a sick headache. Apologies, youngest fruit of my loins.
Yesterday was GCSE results day in the UK: thousands of terrified teenagers arrived early at school without having to be screamed at by their doting parents, to see if all of their hard work was worth it.
In this house, it was. Spud got excellent results and we love him after all.
To celebrate, he stayed up all night with some of his friends.
No, I don’t get it, either, but I’m not sixteen.
He said that around four a.m. they realised it was a stupid idea but they were committed so they saw it through.
What character. Or stupidity.
He had breakfast at six, was home by eight, showered by nine, fast asleep on the couch by nine-fifteen.
Well done, my darling boy.
I have seen the future, and it snores.