Keep It in the Family

by John Marrs

I suppose that’s what makes him a good plumber and all-round handyman. He can look at an object and instinctively know how it works or how to repair it. I’m the opposite. I look at something and it falls apart.

You can take a girl out of London but you can’t take a large triple-shot latte with nutmeg sprinkles out of her hand. Not without a crowbar, anyway.

He was regular with a capital R. And I was beginning to realise I liked normal.

I’m tired and I ache and I want to protest but he knows exactly the right buttons to press no matter how shattered I feel. And before I know it, the iPad falls to the floor and, despite my considerable size, I’m straddling him and my hips are moving like Shakira’s.

If she continues to poke at the wasps’ nest, she will end up getting stung.