Only yesterday, Abby was a little blonde bundle of energy-excess and giggle-surfeit. If I took her to the shops, she'd coo over fluffy things, shriek at pink things and fall prostrate at the paws of dogs in the street, the smaller the better.
I took her to the shops on Saturday. She ignored the felt-tips, turned her nose up at the pony books and threw disdainful looks at gonks on keyrings. We came home with a poster of some C-list trollop, to go next to the recently acquired poster of an (un)popular beat combo, the (un)Wanted.
In the words of a real musician: The Times, They Are a-Changin'
I took her to the shops on Saturday. She ignored the felt-tips, turned her nose up at the pony books and threw disdainful looks at gonks on keyrings. We came home with a poster of some C-list trollop, to go next to the recently acquired poster of an (un)popular beat combo, the (un)Wanted.
In the words of a real musician: The Times, They Are a-Changin'
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