‘Who would want to?’ I would scream. Well, in my head. I never actually said that out loud. But inside my head, the conversation would continue: ‘who wants an old head, if it’s like that? I like my young head, thank you very much. An old head, with its ridiculous views, with all its ‘ists’: sexist, racist, fattist. What does this old head know?’
Yes, a bolshy teenager in her full, I can change the world, loud, and always right glory.
As I got older, I started to understand that my grandad was never going to change; his outrageous views were just part of him. And, instead of them annoying me, they started to amuse me. In fact, the more outrageous they were, the more amusing I found it. Continue reading