Family Natters

‘We haven’t heard anything about James lately,’ Amelia’s mummy said to me in an email today.  ‘Does that mean he’s been on his best behaviour?’

Well, Amelia’s mummy, I’m afraid to say he hasn’t.  He has been behaving exactly like he always does.  Let me give you an example of what he did last Sunday.

There was no bread to make sandwiches for Tom’s packup so I said I’d pop to the little shop at the end of our road for some.  At this James was in such a rush to get up from the armchair where he’d been watching rugby, that he got his feet caught up in the pouffe and fell over. 

‘I’ll pop for it,’ he said.  ‘You sit down.’ 

I should have known he was up to something.  Over three hours later he stumbled through the door clutching a loaf that looked like it had been sat on repeatedly by an extremely heavy person.

‘There you go,’ he slurred, throwing the bread towards where I was cooking tea.  ‘Don’t say I don’t do anything.’

Then he staggered into the living room and managed to fall over the Christmas tree even though it was in a corner.  Then instead of getting up and putting it right, he just fell asleep underneath it.

‘He’s broken my chocolate Santa!’ Tom wailed.  ‘And the angel’s head’s come off.’

As you can imagine it took me a while to sort it all out.  By the time I returned to the kitchen there was an acrid smell coming from near the cooker.  The bread that James had thrown down had landed on a red-hot hob and the plastic bag had melted and bubbled all over.  By then the corner shop was closed, so poor Tom had to make do with a sandwich that was more like a small piece of toast the next day.  And the worse thing was that when James woke up the next day he remembered none of what he’d done and was affronted we weren’t more grateful that he’d fetched the bread.

So, Amelia’ mummy, I think you’ll agree that he’s changed very little over the last few weeks.  But, I suppose there’s always hope…