How they grow …

I just got a delightful letter in the real post today from my 12-year- old goddaughter. Firstly, I can’t believe she is 12 as I’m sure it’s only a couple of years since she was born and I used to hold her while she slept – clad in my very sexy tie-died purple tights with my permed fringe (struth!) and secondly, I can’t believe how well she writes. Not that I actually know anything about 12 year olds and what they write except for my own experience as one, which when replying to her letter, I realised was 20 bleep years ago (struth!!). Made me think back to what it was like about to go off to college and who I hung around with and what I was doing and listening to and reading. (Hung around with kids I’d always hung around with as there was only one primary school and one college, trying to avoid their awful older brothers, listening to Rod Stewart vinyl when I wasn’t listening to my own hours and hours of scales and practice for my next piano exam, riding up and down the main street on our 10-speeds and reading nasty Enid Blyton (Famous Five).) Wow – a lifetime ago.