Nostalgic interlude
Just for the hell of it, here are ten things I miss about being a kid:
- A full head of hair and a permanently flat stomach
- Not caring how I looked, which morphed into caring a bit but not having any idea what a complete buffoon my fashion choices made me look. In fact, “blissful ignorance” could make up at least half of this list.
- A fervent belief that anything my dad said was gospel. I’m still discovering things to this day (literally – it was about potato skins) that he told me then that turned out not to be.
- Being cleverer than most of my peers. I had the “brains” role in my primary school gang. No specs though.
- A deep and abiding passion for some of the worst TV ever made (honourable mentions to 3-2-1, Game for a Laugh, Russ Abbott’s Madhouse and any sitcom featuring Keith Barron)
- Not having to worry about doing in any part of my body with any sudden movement or extertion
- Having just the right level of knowledge and imagination to be able to invent amazing games, but not too much to make them over-complex or boring
- Anything made of plastic was automatically superior to anything that wasn’t. But then again I own a beloved carbon fibre bicycle so maybe not much has changed
- The first time I saw Big. I think it somehow coincided with the sine qua non moment of my childhood identity. Or something
- Ford Granadas. Saw this the other day and just had a need to take a photo:
Lanterne Rogue 
No 6 is the key one here. Children do not realise how decrepit their poor parents’ bodies are and use them as human trampolines / climbing frames / ‘whizzy slides’ thus inflicting further injury.
I am intrigued by this dastardly potato skin deception perpetrated by your dad… what was it?