I was sitting down with The Girl, catching up on the week’s Got To Dance.  The Man goes to the pub every Saturday afternoon, and we often spend that time watching stuff he’d shout about if he was here because we ALL know that it’s really awful and that we shouldn’t be watching it.  But hey, I can’t watch gritty Scandiwegian dramas all the time, can I?

Anyway, she suddenlt said “how do they do that? I can’t even touch my toes!”  this, from my 13 year old, skinny-minnie, gangly-limbed daughter.

“You can’t touch your toes?!” I asked, “What do you mean you can’t touch your toes? you’re 13! you’re meant to be at your most flexible!  Even *I* can touch my toes no problem”

“Go on then!” she told me. so I immediately stood up, bent down, leg’s straight and touched my toes straight away. Easy-peasy!

“Oh My GOD!” she screamed “How did you DO that? At YOUR age? What kind of sorcery IS that?”

OK, so she was impressed – I don’t blame her, I AM over 40, but “At YOUR age?” Pah!

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