grumpyf1

It’s often portrayed as an over-complicated, laborious, soul-destroying exercise, with endless form-filling and questions. 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 ...