The fatted calf could be losing its flavour

The prodigal has returned. The beatified one. When a ‘child’ has been abroad for some time, his misdemeanours recede. In fact, he becomes the child who never did any wrong. A sweet cherubic creature. He’s the one who has been my screensaver for many, many years. Much to the derision of the other two offspring. The one who is referred to in conversation as ‘the little angel’. Again, much to the derision of the other two. On a recent occasion I sent a text of acknowledgement to a friend in the form of a single X but inadvertently sent it to my other son who has been here all the time. I text him to tell him it had been a mistake and wasn’t meant for him. “I assume it was meant for your other son,” he quipped. I didn’t bother to inform him to the contrary.

And now he’s home. And his halo could slip quite soon. The blood pressure monitor that I had left unopened sitting on the stairs for fear of discovering the worst has been opened and he is insistent on making me stick out my arm for a daily check. He’s insisting that I improve my diet and checks what I have eaten during the day. I am now finding myself lying through the few teeth I have left. He has bought goji berries and cacao powder to make healthy drinks for me. Now if he diluted them in vodka I’d be OK but healthy drinks aren’t my thing.

Ironically his homecoming presents were an array of South American crafts including an ashtray for me for my very unhealthy smoking habit and a machete for his brother. He has a replica machete himself. Now while those two machetes are hanging around the house, I will continue to stick my arm out for the blood pressure check and I’ll drink the healthy drinks. With a naggin of vodka in my hip pocket.