Harry de Quet­teville’s tales from the fa­ther­hood front line

The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - - FAMILY LIFE -

Have you ever had such good for­tune that it be­comes a prob­lem, be­cause you’re go­ing to need a bit of luck soon and you don’t want the gods to have turned on you by then? Sure you have.

You curse as your favourite team flukes goals in a se­ries of easy games, be­cause the chances of an­other one in the knife-edge derby are then shot. You la­ment the ab­sence of rush-hour traf­fic be­cause it’s ac­tu­ally next week you will need a clear run.

Or, if you are a par­ent of a small child at school in the au­tumn term, you cast an in­creas­ingly jaun­diced eye over each day’s re­turn of the mon­sters with­out some ghastly lurgy.

“I know what will hap­pen,” said

Beloved after the first week with­out so much as a snif­fle. “They’ll go six weeks with­out any­thing, and then they will come down with ev­ery­thing just as we are about to go away.”

Yes, we have been away this half term. Spe­cial trip.

“All I want is for them not to get sick,” Beloved re­peated, like some voodoo

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