[TERENCE: I may be a liberal, but I’m not a new man; although sharing this column has proved a crash course.]Last week, I wrote about my new lockdown/circuit-break/lack-of-spontaneity strop.
This week, I planned to be all upbeat and ‘Here are the steps I took to whip my attitude back into shape.’ Only I didn’t. Instead, I became a complete cow – aka ‘becoming my mother’.I’m not saying that my mother was always a complete cow to my father, or, indeed, that he was a complete saint to her.
Far from it. However, as time wore on, a certain tone entered her interactions with him, accompanied by a certain facial expression, and a certain weight of sigh. [TERENCE: My parents’ scuffles were over borrowed fountain pens, muddy boots in the hall, his.
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