That’s all it took for us to turn this truck around in the middle of the road. Yeah - we wish. I’ve seen some magazines lately in which the editor has practically talked the reader through the redesign when the results of said labour are so damned obvious in the issue you’re actually holding, it’s insulting to everybody (and bloody lazy as well). So all I have to say is I hope you enjoy it, can see where we’re going from this point on and Gaz: I owe you at least half a pint for your grace under pressure from all sides for all of the hoops I’ve made you jump through while we rebuilt the machine.
So, back to the funny papers: I went out shopping with the kids last Saturday afternoon. During the morning they decided they would (once again) cover themselves in temporary tattoos - you’d be amazed at the amount of stuff like that we have kicking about the place.
The first time I let them do this, they went crazy with them and stuck them everywhere, in no particularly artistic fashion and it was a right mess - those suckers don’t come off too easily either. Back in the day, my grandparents used to let me do the same, but whenever I got home, my Ma would take the equivalent of a hand-held yard brush to me in the bath to get them off. I think there’s a phone number for that these days.
As time has moved on, they’ve gotten a bit smarter about it and have started to put them into some kind of order. Tiger, dragon, koi down the side of one leg, pirate, skull & cross bones, mermaid down the order. That sort of thing.
They’re 10 and 14, so the law of averages and common sense really does dictate that none of them were real. Or so you’d think - they don’t even look like real tattoos if you have two eyes that function half as well as they should. Anyway, that afternoon, a couple of ladies who were handing out leaflets to some er... “un-named religious event” (I won’t point a finger too directly), stopped me and gave me a royal earful about how irresponsible it was of me to let them get tattooed at such a young age!
“Don’t you realise that they’ll be there for the rest of their young lives.”
Actually, I think you’ll find that the next time we go swimming, they’ll all come off. Alternatively, we could wait until we get to Grandma’s house and she’ll sort them out good ‘n’ proper. Sometimes, you really have to wonder if we’ve moved on at all...