Bloke's Column: Petey Vacances

I love my parents, like most of you do I'm sure, but there's no way you'd really want to turn in to one of them, is there?

I only bring this up because of late I've realised that I have - alarmingly - developed some characteristics of my mother. It's the word 'developed' that causes the most anxiety for me; I'm pretty sure I've not always been like this.

I’m walking around the streets of my home town tut-tutting at the state of youths hanging about on the street corners. I find myself more interested in domestic cleanliness and good order. I take great interest in new hairstyles and get broody around babies. In fact I think I’d be discovering I was gay if I didn’t find lady gardening much more preferable to uphill gardening, if I dare be allowed to put it so crassly.

I think the line is crossed though when I reflect upon myself chastising my girlfriend as if she were a child for doing things that occasionally annoy me, like leaving scissors lying around on the floor and staining the bed sheets with make up.

I’m not saying that pointing out the fact that I nearly cut my toes off is wrong and heaven knows I like being party to smearing my girlfriend’s make-up on the bed sheets - but perhaps not adopting the authoritative and perhaps patronising tone would help next time.

I also need to get rid of this desire to get as purple-rinse. One step at a time though eh?