Early last year before Jamie could walk, some doom-mongering Ulsterwoman said to me that every step he eventually took would be a step away from Vanessa and me.
My response to this observation was along the lines of:
"What do you know, you crumbly old b******?! F*** off, mind your own business and, actually, f*** off again!"
Thankfully, I said this inwardly rather than out loud so, unless she reads this, she'll never know.
However, the reason for relaying this brief incident is because you may have read that a new shatter-proof pint glass is being launched today in an effort to do something about a reported 87,000 glass attacks in British pubs each year.
We've all obviously heard that glass attacks happen in pubs although I, thankfully, have never witnessed one (and I have been in a few pubs in my time). But I had no idea they were so common. Scary stuff to say the least.
Which brings me back to Jamie and his endless march away from Vanessa and me.
Perhaps that depressing old bint had a point after all. Perhaps it's bad for him that he now walks. And, more to the point, what might happen when he gets older and wants to walk into a pub?
No, on reflection, she was right, the walking must stop - it's not safe.
As soon as he comes back from his Grandma Judy and Grandad Mike's later today, he's grounded. And he's not going out ever, ever again.
I'm sure, given a couple or three decades, he'll get used to the idea.
PS You don't think I'm over-reacting, do you?
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