I’ve started to watch The Café, a gentle new comedy set in Weston-Super-Mare. It's written and produced by Ralf Little and Craig Cash, both of Royle Family fame, and it's a pleasure to watch. They understand elderly people, who are treated with love and respect by the youngsters around them. The theme music, ‘Beyond the Sea’, is sung beautifully too. My parents, who are getting on a bit now, like going to cafes.
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On Friday night we went for dinner at my sister’s house. Her daughter Abby recently became engaged to Jonny and she had arranged a dinner to welcome his parents, the future in-laws, who were staying in Harrogate. “Aunty Doo Doo”, as my sister is known to the family, does nothing by halves. Her dinner, which was served for 16 people, was beautiful in every way, down to the handwritten place cards. Our parents have been staying at her home, following my mum’s recent stay in hospital. The lovely Ruby, who is my mum's devoted carer, is also staying there. So on Friday night the roll call was extensive: Aunty Doo Doo, her husband, their daughter and fiancé; his parents; our parents and Ruby; my brother and his family, us and their two dogs.
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Apparently there are millions of fathers around the world who are, unwittingly, raising other men’s children as their own. Worse still, if it can be worse, they have all been duped at the hands of wicked mothers, who care not for a partner’s “right” to know the truth.
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Yesterday, in the changing room at my local gym, I met a young man aged three and his mum. They had been swimming and were going home to watch the rugby. He had red, chubby cheeks and fair hair cut into a pudding basin.
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