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    It just gets earlier every year….

    We’re getting near to that time of year, we frankly we all start to go a bit mad. It’s October, and granted yes, its towards the end of the month, however, we’ve hit that point already where we are forced to endure the advertising that signals the beginning of the silly season. The time of year where people become nothing more than sheep, to be chased and herded into position, so that some powerful business/person can take the money that you’ve worked so hard for, and keep it for their own.

    I should note, that today is the first day of the October half term and boy does it show, the roads are quieter, the phone rings less and I can only guess that all the people with children are unable to work, and they’ve taken the week off to be with their children, those children that make everywhere busy, and those children who get in my way. A purely selfish moan. Alas, I am allowed to moan about my plight when it comes to those tiny feet that inter-tangle with my size 12 feet, and yes, before you ask; I do apologise, I am sorry that I trod on your foot and made you teary, but you really shouldn’t have got in my way.

    Of course, once the child is teary – incidentally before I continue I am aware that there is a undertone in this post, of the child hating. This in-fact is not true, I don’t hate them all, there is a one-percent tolerance when it comes to children, they’re not all bad, just most… I endure the wrath of the parent, the parent whose entire mental capacity is seemingly absorbed by the child, and is incapable of rational or even un-rational thought, they’re just focussed on preventing their little darling from running away, well they don’t do a fantastic job when it comes to corralling their sprog.

    “Timmy, stop there. No, Timmy, I said wait, you can have the biscuit lat.. No, you can’t have it now, you have to wait. Just wait, thirty seconds is all I ask, Come back Timmy! Come back now! OH GOD” – Said the mother whose child has slipped her grasp, sometimes those reins you see attached to young offspring’s back, begin to sound like a good idea. Yes, it’s tantamount to torture, but if it controls little Timmy and stops him from legging it, I’m all for it.

    So as we progress into that time of year where self control is less evident and virtually non existent the parents of little Timmy be rest assured that we, the childless, don’t wish to tread on your child, and just ask one thing, a little control, and some well earned silence.

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