If They Give You Lined Paper, Write the Other Way
The thing is, if you’re going to stick a sign up saying, ‘Please do not climb on the guns’ then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. There’s nothing malicious about it, I’ve just noticed that when adults forbid you from doing anything, it’s usually something fun.
It’s certainly true in this case, the view up here’s great. While I wander along the guns, I’m chewing on a toffee and wondering if I throw the last half of my sandwich at the back of my sister’s head whether it’ll reach from this distance and how much mess it will make.
I decide that a squashed tomato and egg sandwich will make a very satisfactory amount of mess indeed which is good as I’ll be in a storm of trouble so it needs to be worth it.
I don’t throw the sandwich just yet. The guns point out towards the sea which looks magnificently still and blue and, though the sun’s beating down, there’s a gentle breeze. My parents are sitting under a tree, drinking a gin and tonic, together, for once, and quiet, which is even rarer. My sister is stretched out on the grass, soaking up the sun and totally absorbed in her book, taking a break from being the nightmare teenage princess.
Everything is still.
I aim the sandwich.