De-camping to Brittany with the kids
They’re the words the Irish mammy dreads from her first born son and heir. “Can I go to a disco with my friend?”
“You’re six! You don’t have clean underwear on! You’re my baaaaby!” — is what I wanted to say. “Of course you can, darling” - is what I actually say, clutching the wine bottle — at least something around here is chilled — strangling the sobs.
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