Waffle was 7, his parents moved to Venezuela for six months. I was looking at the pictures from Venezuela with him and his mother one day and
there was one of him in a rather twee t-shirt featuring a little boy and girl
fishing together. Â“Oh yesÂ” he said
bitterly Â“my Â‘gone wishingÂ’ t-shirtÂ”. On closer inspection, the words Â“gone wishingÂ”
did indeed feature in faded letters over the picture on the t-shirt. It appeared that because they were only in Venezuela for 6 months, his mother had not
considered it necessary to get all the kit required by the school and instead
of the regulation gym t-shirt, she had issued Mr. Waffle with the Â“gone
wishingÂ” number. This had obviously
scarred his sensitive soul.
this incident in mind when considering the following piece of dialogue.
Me: It says on her school list that we
have to get her a Â“tablierÂ”, what the hell is that?
of a smock thing, but we can just cut down one of my old shirts.
Me: But it gives the name of the shop where we
can buy themÂ…
Him: But thereÂ’s no need, one of my old shirts
will be fine.
Me: But she
wonÂ’t have a smock like the other children.
for heavenÂ’s sake, it doesnÂ’t matter, itÂ’s only to keep her clothes clean when
You will be delighted to hear that, in defiance of my husband, I went to the authorised supplier and
purchased a tablier, pictured below.
Seriously, would a cut down shirt have done? Please note
the pencils and paintbrushes embroidered above the pocket before giving
on 05 December 2005 at 11:00
on 05 December 2005 at 15:33
on 05 December 2005 at 15:42
on 05 December 2005 at 21:36
on 06 December 2005 at 15:21
UC, you have a very cruel streak and you too Kristin.
Ta, FT, LondonM.
on 06 December 2005 at 20:20
on 07 December 2005 at 09:28
on 07 December 2005 at 12:25
on 08 December 2005 at 15:08
on 08 December 2005 at 21:57
I remember the shame all too well
on 09 December 2005 at 08:16
The other morning I found that Mr. Waffle had drawn a map of the supermarket and indicated
on it where all the items we needed were to be found.Â I scoffed. I chucked it out.
Then on Saturday morning as I traipsed around the supermarket with Little Ms. Cranky and found that I had forgotten to get garlic in the vegetable section and wipes in the baby bit, I began to wish that I had the supermarket map. What on earth is this happening to me?