Prepare to have your tiny minds blown. I know you’re not reading this column expecting your entire belief system to be irrevocably shattered but that’s what I’m going to do, damn it. Should have thought of that before you started digging around the shadowy back pages of Stylist’s website. To those of you who want to opt out, better do it now. There’s no shame in clicking the back button and...
Panic In The Playground
“What’s that?” “A hedge.” “What’s that?” “A letterbox” “What’s that?” “A tractor.” This is Max’s favourite game. He points at things. You tell him what they are. Max knows what these things are already, however this seems to be immaterial to his enjoyment of the game. Max is three. “What’s that?” “The sun.” To be fair, I’m not sure he did know that one; he is English after all. My...