down's dad's down time

I looked up this morning and smiled at a fellow passenger. We gave each other a smug look, because we were both reading the same paper; one we'd bought, not the freesheet that's given out. Then I realised I'd seen the same guy every day this week, because I'd got the same train, in the same carriage, every day. Stan's been on the school trip and I've been able to spend quality time with his mum and brother, catch up on my sleep, watch some TV, go out, and spend more time at work. All the things that I imagine I'd do if Stan didn't have a learning disability. But I can only imagine Stan putting his hand to his mouth and saying, as he does, "boooooring". I've become a boring old fart. And I've loved every minute. So he's on his way back, and all I can say, is thank goodnesss, because Stan can sometimes bring chaos, and I hope that's keeping me a little younger. Next week, if I see newspaper guy, I'm going to ignore him.