It began as a simple trip to the pet shop, Fish-R-Us.
My daughter stops me: “Dad, Easter is about Jesus dying and being resurrected right?”
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We have just moved house. Packed everything we own into boxes, labelled them vaguely – “stuff for upstairs” and “maybe the shed” or, in one case, “can’t remember what I put in this one” – waited for the cat to go out and changed houses.
I faced a moral dilemma this week.
There are – and I consider myself an expert in this area – many different ways of not knowing things.
My daughter has reached that stage in life when she asks really good questions.
My daughter, who is 11, has a thing for animals.
“It’s not like that on CSI or Cagney and Lacey,” was my less than helpful response.
In the 1980s we tended to go on a lot of marches – CND, anti-Apartheid, Support the Miners, anti-racism.
I don’t like arguing.