Lucy Cried Today. Or Maybe Yesterday.

Lucy cried today. Or maybe yesterday. I don't know. I read a Tweet from her iPhone: 'Lucy crying away*. She has a fun run tomorrow. Yours sincerely.' That doesn't mean anything. It may have been yesterday.

It was definitely today, actually, thinking about it morefully. Because it was this morning when I went down town to put a bet on her losing her back during the fun run. I could have done an accumulator, but the odds on her voice "going all Lilly Allen" after the run were pretty short.

Hence the crying. I don't know why she's having a go at me, when it was her that said "ooooh, isn't my back all bumpy? Bet it's trying to escape, mad back". Either way, if it pays off we're quidded out to the jowel sack, and if not - she keeps her bumpy back for next year's funny dash-about. Win win.

I've had a look-see online, and already picked what I'll treat her to - spinal shoes.

I see that they supply them at WHAT? store in Covent Garden, so I'll pop down there and eye them off. Noticed online that they also do mens trainers, made from Mens Authentic & Real Dendritic Spines (M.A.R.D.S.) - might get myself a pair, but only if they supply them from Irish bone.

I can see it now, she'll be all floppy and rubber-minded on the sofa, resting up after her run (in which she tip-toed the last mile). She's bound to be chucking heavy tones my way all evening, so I'll play along and be awfully nice throughout our dinner - I'll ask questions like "how's your mother's hamstring?" and "when's the last time you lied during a Tom Hanks film?", that should do the trick.

Then, like a troll up a drainpipe, I'll give her the present, the tears will dry and we'll be back to listening to her favourite album - 'Beady Emma Sings Around Love'. Job's a good one.

* Lucy's dependency on using the third person in her status updates was my doing. The fact that she's the daughter of some musician, sort of makes it mandatory (like when a dinner lady fondles under your belt after you've played on the wet grass, after specifically being told "not to play on the wet grass" in that morning's assembly).