Revenge!

When Auntie Saskia came to visit, she would always say the exact same thing:

“My, haven’t you grown!” she would exclaim, ruffling my hair, as if patronising me was somehow a viable substitute for actually saying something of worth. Being a polite, well behaved little boy, I just nodded and smiled, but every time it happened I grew slightly more frustrated. When I hit fifteen and 6’3”, I was surely old enough by that point for her to think I had something interesting to say, and tall enough to be out of reach from the dread head-pat - but no. So I hatched a plan.

***

It’s Christmas Day, and now 34, married, and with kids of my own the brood has come to stay; just one person left to arrive. Saskia. Once, she could have been described as svelte – with a name like Saskia you’ve got to be - but age, a sedentary lifestyle and a weakness for chocolate gateau had taken their toll. The stage is set. The doorbell rings.

“Auntie Saskia, my, haven’t you grown!”

Revenge!