Why Stan should meet Bruce Forsyth

Stan chucked the alarm clock across the room and it shattered into bits. It still works but is held together by super glue.
It struck me – why not do a sort of Generation Game in reverse - ie we don't get to keep hold of any of the stuff – and name, in one minute, all the things he’s broken. Here goes:
· Plasma TV
· Sofa
· Three ipods
· His cousin’s camera
· Lampshade (frosted glass)
· Cuddly toy (ripped the head off – OK, I made that one up for artistic licence)
· Threw ice against the car when it was snowing, leaving dents
· A pair of earings (like two of the ipods, they went flying over the fence next door)
· Photos ripped

There’s more, but I give up.

Didn’t he do well?

And why did I do this to myself? Well, it’s difficult at times to rise above it all and think about how I felt nine years ago standing outside Great Ormond Street wondering if he was going to make it. In that context, a few things smashed can be laughed off. I can afford to guffaw in the face of broken things.

We had a note in his home-school book the other day. It said “Stan had a good day.” The items above; several hundred pounds. The comment in the book; priceless.

Good game. Good game.