Boys boys boys

Brain hurts. It is vexed by important philosophical question, as asked by Millie. Not usual one to do with death. Or chickens. This one is more complicated. And possibly ickier. It is: What is the point of boys? It is because at age of five Millie has apparently already decided to shun swarthier sex and opt for big gay wedding:

Millie: I am not ever never getting married except to Katherine. We will live with you mummy.

Me: Super. I can hardly wait.

Millie: Because boys is horrid.

Katherine: Boys is coming. Run away from your life.

Millie: Yes because they will hit you like mad.

Katherine: Where is mad?

(Then ensues wedding in the den, involving wearing half of hedge on head and dancing in tutus to the theme from the Mister Men).

All of which is very progressive. Though not the bit where Katherine did a wee during ceremony or demanded that I do “alien sick”. Do not think even the gayest of weddings would welcome that. But, still, surely there is a point to boys. Apart from the obvious. But Millie not keen on having babies either. She says she will adopt an orphan and has already chosen it from the Boden catalogue. It will reside with me, her and Katherine and live on a diet of porridge. Which, frankly, sounds like version of hell. So have told her boys are actually magic. Plus they can open jars. It’s a start.

About Joanna Nadin

A former broadcast journalist and special adviser to the prime minister, since leaving politics I’ve written more than 70 books, as well as speeches for politicians, and articles for newspapers and magazines like Red and The Amorist. I also lecture in Creative Writing at Bath Spa University, and hold a doctorate in young adult literature. I’m a winner of the Fantastic Book Award and the Surrey Book Award, and have been shortlisted for the Roald Dahl Funny Prize, the Booktrust Best Book award and Queen of Teen among others, and nominated for the Carnegie Medal for Joe All Alone, which is currently being adapted for television. I also work with Sir Chris Hoy on the Flying Fergus series. I like London, New York, Essex, tea, cake, Marmite, mint imperials, prom dresses, pubs, that bit in the West Wing where Donna tells Josh she wouldn’t stop for a red light if he was in an accident, junk shops, crisps, Cornwall, St Custard’s, Portuguese custard tarts, political geeks, pin-up swimsuits, the Regency, high heels, horses, old songs, my Grandma’s fur coat, vinyl, liner notes, the smell of old books, the feel of a velveteen monkey, Guinness, quiffs, putting my hand in a bin of chicken feed, the 1950s, burlesque, automata, fiddles, flaneuring, gigs in fields on warm summer nights, Bath, the bath.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s