Silly me!

My lovely neighbour's son Alexi has been spending rather a lot of time in my home of late. I empathise with the boy, his mother was so traumatised by his recent GCSE failure but I am happy to provide the cub with a place to unwind and clear his head after a hard day at school.

Alexi has expressed great interest in my writing, and been begging me to allow him to read a draft of the book which I am currently working on. Melissa says that he should only be allowed to read his school texts in my home, but I must admit that I have been terribly flattered that a trendy young teenage chap should show interest in the musings of an average working mother like myself... It makes me feel good to think that I can tickle his sense of humour and gain the attention and respect of a young person.

This evening I was standing in my en-suite wet room, applying a spritz of Lime, Basil and Mandarin and powdering my nose before the munchkins' bath time. Alexi was pleading with me for access to my text from the doorway, when my darling husband James returned home uncharacteristically early from work.

"Haven't you got some Skelextric or something to play with?" He demanded of Alexi (rather rudely to my mind).

I was not very impressed, and chastised James for his rudeness later when we were alone. "Young boys like to adopt grown-ups other than their parents as role models," I insisted. "Haven't you read Raising Boys?"

"Silly Bea," he scoffed, "Alexi is sixteen, and the word 'sex' is in the title of your book. I dare say I have a good idea why he is so interested in it. I should like to read it myself..."

OHMYGOD! I really am terribly naive you know. It hadn't even occurred to me before... I really should keep young men away from the environs of my bedchamber in future.