This Is This

Well, it’s that time of year again. Posh Londoners have clamoured for tickets to sit out for hours in the sun and hope that Cliff Richard doesn’t make an appearance. They will perch on a hillside eating overpriced food watching a big TV screens and see British hopefuls outshon by contenders from all around the world. I’m talking, of course, of Glastonbury.

I have good memories of the festival, and I’d like to go again one day. In the meantime I get my kicks out of the children making me cards on Father’s Day. Son, 5, keeps asking me which card I like better. Boys are so competitive. Daughter, 3, keeps picking up her card and bringing it over to me, as if she can recreate the day and light up my face just like she did last Sunday, and to only my surprise, it works every time.

So you can keep your dance tents, your jugglers, your spicy tofu noodles (actually I’ll take those noodles) and your didgeridoos - I’m all right at home.

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