Anyone have a child I can borrow?

See, this is the problem with not having produced offspring just yet; apart from them being irritating, smelly, whingey little blighters, they can also be quite useful.

Take yesterday for example, when into my inbox I received a jolly exciting email. It appears that from 9th to 13th December, Thomas & Friends are going to be "Live! On Stage" (their exclamation mark, not mine; presumably Thomas is going to burst forth from a cake or something, hence the ! for surprise…) That's Thomas the Tank Engine for you uninitiated out there, who has to be the coolest engine ever dreamt up by a Reverend for his son during a bout of the measles.

But of course, I can't go. While I might get away with it slightly more surreptitiously than if Pies wanted to see Gordon, James, et al, being a girl rather than a potential paedamophile, the absence of a child in tow (probably screaming that he wanted to see that big purple dinosaur - you know how ungrateful they can be) might alert the angry mob that something's amiss.

Same with the Picnic in the Park last weekend: could I go on the bouncy castles? No. Could I get my face painted like a tiger? No. Could I terrorise the patrons by tearing around on my scooter with wheels that light up? No. And all would have been (just about) acceptable had I been able to say, "Oh, I have to set an example for little Zia/Marcheline/Xanthe/Achilles; he/she won't do it unless they're copying me."

Lame. Guess I'll just have to remember I'm thirty, and should really start acting like an adult.



Hee hee hee...

Photo © Keith Packer circa 1987 (and contrary to popular belief, I am not pregnant in this photo!)