Miss train at Esher so get taxi to Surbiton where congratulate self on escaping noisy family gang at station by nifty footwork when train arrive. Have just started stuffing face with pain au raisin at far end of railway carriage when horrified at sight of said gang piling in on seats opposite – two over-excited girls aged about 9, boy about 7, on half-term jaunt in London in company of Middle Class Daddy.
‘The unfortunate thing is we have lost our foothold in London,’ is Daddy’s conversational opener.
”What does that mean, Daddy?’ asks ginger-ringletted child, apparently known familiarly as ‘Ruby Redlocks’.
‘It means we no longer have property in London.’ replies Daddy.
‘If we did have another house,’ asks 7-year old, ‘Where would we keep our X-box?’
Question hangs in air as 7 year old belches loudly and Daddy pulls out smart phone and studies it.
‘What are you looking at, Daddy?’ asks Ruby Redlocks.
‘I’m looking at Tate Modern’, replies Daddy. ‘I think you might quite like it.’