Prime Meat...

The Boy is growing up fast.

In fact he's been growing up fast for the past three or four years and he's now grown up so fast that he's finally decided on his adult 'look' and has enacted a Stalinist purge on anything in his wardrobe that does not fit in with this.

Consequently I am now the proud owner of a new pair of combats that he was going to recycle until the Missus spotted them and realised they'd fit me.

The plus side of us now wearing the same size clothes is that I can get hand-me-ups from him. I even offered to repay the compliment by telling him he could borrow any of my clothes but he just sneered and said 'As if...' and went back to his bedroom laughing.

The down side, though, is that we now wear the same size jeans so to stop our clobber getting confused the Missus has actually written my name inside my jeans. Like I am at school. The Boy is growing up yet I feel like I am four.

But sometimes I feel much older and this weekend was a case in point.

Myself, the Boy and the Missus were walking down Old Compton Street and the Missus pointed out the rainbow flag and started to explain what it meant but the Boy said 'I know. It's a gay flag. It's a gay street.'

The Missus asked him how he knew and he explained I told him when we out and about last year. Then he added that today he'd also spotted the amount of men who were checking him out and it had reminded him, before reassuringly telling me that: 'But you're OK. You have nothing to worry about. You're past your best. It's me that's the prime meat here...'