Daughters, Bananas and Poo Pelletts

So I was sat in the passenger seat of my daughter’s brand new car thinking how grand life is. She’s got a job, and now a car.  I am liberated from being her 24 hour on call chauffeur and her account at The Bank of Mum and Dad is closed. I started to hum the ‘Circle of Life’ and was even enjoying a bit of euphoric chin dancing  when she did an emergency stop.

“What’s wrong?” I asked

“Like you don’t know” she replied

“What?” I had no clue why she’d suddenly braked, “Is it the humming? Is it putting you off driving?”

She nodded her head in the direction of my hands which were holding a small and half peeled banana and she could not have looked more disgusted if I had been cupping a sloppy cow pat.

It transpires than in HER car there are rules and there shalt be no eating in her brand new vehicle is top of the nots..

When I think of the things she has sprayed over the interior of my car during her growing up years all I can say is that’s bloomin’ rich. The list includes vomit, assorted dog poos, ice cream, chocolate, biscuits, peanut butter sandwich bits, fizzy drinks, fruit juice,  Pringle shards, MacDonaldskentuckyfiredchickenpizzahut combos and more recently cider, make up and J’Lo perfume. And what about the time I drove her and her  pet rabbit to the vet and the febrile bunny leapt out of the pet carrier and set to work pebble dashing my fabric interiors with poo pellets?

I’m a right rebel so staring hard at her I slid the entire banana into my mouth and then tri folded the skin down to the size of a, slimy. matchbox and made a big production of putting it into my mac pocket.

Seemed like a powerful protest gesture at the time, until four hours later when my fingers found it again……..

 

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