I'm so tired that my eyes are droopy in the manner of a crack addict, but damn it, I said I'll post every day and I'll be damned if I go back on that already.
Today I did the rounds; mum's house, then dad's. My mum regailed me with stories of a recent date she went on, which to me seemed deeply unneccessary. Maybe this is me alone, but I would rather never think about my mum dating or kissing. Probably because it would make me face the uncomfortable truth that she's getting some and I'm not.
My dad and I had an impassioned debate about the burqa. One of those debates of fierce, deeply held beliefs and passionate senses of justice that are unique within the white upper-middle classes who have no personal association with the issues involved. We both argued our own opinion, refused to consider the other and left with a quiet but innate sense of being right, and thus, superior.
Good day all round then.
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