Sunday, 24 March 2013

A Fine Romance


My daughter has been dating her boyfriend for a little over a year.  Personally I think she’s too young to be so serious about a lad, but there you go.  The two of them are currently love’s young dream and can’t wait for the weekends to see each other.  Things were very different in my day.  When I was 15 I too was madly in love with a boy.  Although this particular male had four legs, a mane and tail and when we kissed I’m pretty sure no tongues were involved.  Also my daughter is very attractive whereas I just wasn’t.  Which is probably why she has a boyfriend and I didn’t.  In fact my daughter is lucky in that she is never short of admirers.  Indeed, only a couple of nights ago a lad popped up on Facebook Chat from two summers ago.
          ‘’Ello, zis is Antoine ’ere.’  Okay, he didn’t type it like that, but he’s French, so I’m just trying to set the scene.  ‘’Ow are you?’
          My daughter said she was fine thanks and politely asked how he was doing.  Which brought forth gushing chat about much he missed my daughter, how he couldn’t stop thinking about her, she was the sun, the moon and les étoiles
and any chance of popping over and staying during the summer holidays so they could continue a fine romance?  Eleanor was aghast.
          ‘Mum?’ she called out.
          ‘Yes?’ I replied.
          ‘How do you politely tell somebody to go away?’
          ‘I have absolutely no idea.’
          ‘Well what did you do when you were dating somebody you weren’t bothered about?’
          Was she kidding?  I just never had this problem!  It was hard enough trying to bag somebody you could refer to as my boyfriend never mind courteously tell them to clear off.
          Of course the skeptics might say that Antoine was merely trying to butter my daughter up in order to have a free jolly in England for the summer, but actually this isn’t the first time he’s attempted wooing my daughter from French shores.
          Meanwhile there is a small matter of GCSEs coming up and I really would prefer it if Eleanor focused all her energies on passing a few of them.  Which reminds me.  A mother said to her daughter, ‘How did the exam go today?’  The daughter replied, ‘The questions didn’t give me any trouble.  But the answers did.’

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