I took my youngest, the Best Boy, to the seaside as he was between films so could be dragged kicking and screaming down to Kent for some sea air. He stayed in and watched telly. Well, he did walk a tiny bit and he came to Dungeness with me for a spooky nuclear drink at the pub followed by fish dinner.
This morning I took him shopping at the wondrous Ashford Retail Outlet. I somehow ended up buying him a load of boring shirts and pants and a top ...
"Well, what do you say to your generous mum?"
"I need a shirt".
I hate him. Well, no I don't. I love the little poo but I so wish he could be a little less oafish. He just wishes I would curl up and die. This is despite the fact that I am buying him and his brother a house.
I really need those boys out of my life for a bit.
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