Izzy was dropped off with me on Sunday evening after a weekend with her father. My head was still thudding a little from the reckless cocktail consumption on Saturday, but nevertheless I was pleased to have her back.
"So Iz," I asked her, "what have you been up to this weekend?"
"Daddy took me camping, to somewhere called Studland Bay" she said with a big grin.
I turned to her aghast, "camping?! CAMPING?! Have you learnt nothing during our years together?"
Izzy looked at me perplexedly, adding; "it was fun."
I knelt down in front of her, took both her hands in mine, and stared into her eyes, "Izzy, you should never stay anywhere that doesn't have a Concierge. It's the golden rule."
"What's a Concierge?" she asked me innocently.
That confirmed my fears. A weekend spent camping had virtually turned her feral.
Tskkk. It was at that point that I heard the ping of an email arriving in my inbox.
It was Izzy's Dad, and he had sent me lots of pictures of their weekend together..... showing them living on the floor under a sheet, and eating things that would make a billy goat puke. It was pure barbarism.
Pic.No.1. They slept in that canvas thing. It has no bathroom or fully integrated Denon sound system
Pic.No.2. I am still not sure if this was the central heating or the cooker
Pic.No.3. They lived amongst trees like wild badgers
Pic.No.4. This is Izzy 'washing up', on the ground. OMG how did she cope?
Pic.No.5. Izzy sitting in her sand 'racing car'. That's gotta be gritty
Pic.No.6. Izzy playing ball with a chum that she met on the beach
Pic.No.7. Now we're talking - a fully pimped-up wheelchair with beach-ready wheels
Pic.No.8. Ugh, get out of the sea. It's brown and full of bits. Let's depart for St Tropez Dahlink
Vid.No.1. Ok this looks quite fun. But it doesn't mean that camping is ok
Pic.No.9. Izzy overlooking Studland Bay
It's all a little worrying. She seems to have enjoyed living off the land like a squirrel forraging for nuts. She made no complaints about the lack of convenient sanitation, high-speed wi-fi access, or a top notch sound system. And similarly, she seemed quite happy to sleep on the ground, instead of a hand-tufted pocket-sprung mattress with Egyptian cotton sheets.
Without anyone concrete to blame, I am going to put the whole scenario down to 14 years of a labour government. Note to self: That gal needs to be retrained as soon as possible.