Little Madam was given her own PC for Christmas. It arrived yesterday.

This was her uncle’s old machine – as demonstrated by the patina of coffee stains across the keyboard and the lack of master installation software. It had been “fixed” by “someone we know” and we can’t complain that it took two months, as it was done for free.

Someone, clearly, has no idea about the necessity for keeping promises made to six-year-olds PROMPTLY.

The machine was unpacked from a crate and assembled on the desk that had been kept clear for 65 days under the watchful eye of Little Madam, who had her Christmas collection of software in her hot little hands all the time. I then had to break it to her that her new computer didn’t work.

She then said the cruellest thing that my daughter has ever said to me: “That’s alright, Daddy. You can fix it for me.”
*Stands sheepishly: My name is Gareth, and I am an inadequate father…*

So, I went to PC World and bought a new Compaq. Chequebook parenthood: the true sign that you are a Middle-Class Dad.