A moment of Magnus

March 3, 2013

I think I mentioned my boy Magnus a few days ago. Don’t think I said much because, well, quite frankly, I’ve been overtaken by events.

The doorbell rang and there he was. And he was not alone. Not accompanied by some fey girlfriend in an ethnic headscarf, mercifully, but by a random assortment of suitcases and cardboard boxes, and a large number of carrier bags, mostly from Lidl. Well, at least the boy hasn’t inherited his mother’s spendthrift habits, I thought, as I studied the bags with care.

That cheered me up briefly. Then he uttered the words every father dreads:

‘Dad, can I stay for a few days?’