Jamie is a total dote so he is...he's just come up to ask would we help him with his homework and to see how I am...and he asked me several times was I certain I was alright and to take it easy...more than the flesh and blood grandchildren have done...!
He brought Tilly of course, who leaped onto my lap and smothered me with puppy kisses...
Helping Jamie with his homework isn't straightforward though...it was easy, just four questions to ask a person over the age of fifty, about their schooldays...what one world event stood out for us as children, what did we do in our spare time and did we drink or smoke.
The difficulty arises when trying to keep it brief enough for him to remember...writing it down is useless 'cos he's severely dyslexic...though actually I'm beginning to have doubts about that...Jamie is certainly eccentric, of that there is no doubt at all...but I have to confess to a bit of a niggle about the dyslexic label.
His Dad Jason wants him to join the Marines for crying out loud...Jamie mentioned it again just now...Jason says 'it'd make a man out of him'...Jamie says it might get his head out of the clouds. He's a dreamy sort of a lad...absorbs knowledge like a sponge and to visualise him in a barracks with dozens of lads built like brick shit houses fills me with horror...he's already had problems with being bullied at the last school he was in for being peculiar...though we are knocking the peculiar label out and replacing it...firmly...with 'mild eccentricity'...he liked that.
So he's away home with tales of corporal punishment, Yuri Gagarin going into space and returning in one piece, turning hay and milking cows in our spare time and it not occurring to anyone to either drink or smoke...well...not until we left school that is. We let rip then.