Admissions

Getting from our bedroom to the nearest toilet involves four stairs down and seven stairs up. The other night I admitted that coming from the loo in the middle of the night, I travel the seven stairs down then four up, crossing the bedroom, grab my water glass, take a slug, slide into bed and touch her bottom. All the way with eyes tight shut. “Why?” she asked.

She admitted that when in my 20s, at the local church school to apply for a place for our eldest, she was really embarrassed at my immaturity, adding “Nothing’s changed, has it?”