I had none of these problems, although I was distracted by a brie and cranberry Panini, which may have helped.
My very brief exposure to the world of adoption took about one and half hours, and just one question. It would have been even quicker, if the person asking the question hadn’t been so shy, and curious as to whether I bleed cappuccino if I’m cut. (Of course not – there’s cider in there too.)
At the weekend, my wife and I were asked by my brilliant newspaper-column-ideas-factory, nearly-nine year old, friend if we would be willing to be adopted as Aunty and Uncle (although there appears to some confusion as to who is which).
We were delighted to accept, and in my first role as Aunty Peter, I shall endeavour to attend a swimming pool party in March, although I did point out I can’t go in the pool; being this hairy, I’d likely absorb all the water and leave distressed youngsters flailing around in the empty shallow-end, like the fish in those David Attenborough-narrated wildlife programmes when their lake dries up.
I’m unclear as to what other duties are involved at this stage – hugging certainly seems to have been part of the unwritten agreement, along with being silly, although to be honest I’ve been doing that successfully for 45 years. I think cake was mentioned, but I’m an expert on that topic, and I believe playing Top Trumps may also be part of the deal.
There are lots of sad, lonely, rudderless grown-ups out there, who lead mundane, depressing lives, drifting from day to empty day, without any purpose. Minimal exposure to joy, fun and general daftness has left them isolated.
Being serious, grown-up, mature and sensible takes it toll. If you’re under ten, and you think you can handle it, adopt a grown-up. It’s surprisingly simple, and it makes them very, very, happy.
Thanks, Rebecca. It’ll be an honour. _________________________________________________________________________________
I would like to add my condolences to the many already made to the family of Alice Pyne, who sadly passed away last weekend.
Caught up in the day-to-day trials and tribulations of modern life, it’s easy to sometimes believe that your troubles are more unbearable that those of others. Alice was a shining example of how to put those difficulties to one side, and get the most out of every minute of life. Her dedication, to raising awareness of the need for more bone marrow donors, and the fantastic Alice’s Escapes charity, achieved much more in her short years than most of us manage in a lifetime.
Others have, and will, speak far more eloquently about Alice’s life than I ever can. Whilst we’re busy being grumpy and irritable about the minutia of everyday life, some, like Alice did, are making the most of every moment of theirs. We should all take note. RIP.
This column first appeared in the North West Evening Mail on Friday 18th January 2013. You can view the printed/online version here
53 words were edited out of the adoption section, and the title rather ham-fistedly changed to "Adopt a grown-up and make someone's day". I can see that they were trying to tempt people to read it, but it rather knackered the carefully constructed build-up to the fact that it was a reverse adoption. Ah well. S'life.
(Hey hey! It's CD's, letter Q, which means it's Queen time! Starting at the start with '73's self-titled debut. 40 years ago?! Dang.)
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