Passata Joke
Life, as I have often observed, is copy. You never know when inspiration might strike. As regular readers will recall, last month it was the drive to school that got me thinking about the changing face of language and where I also found out about the practice of rickrolling. Oddly, it’s all about driving this month too. Last week was half term so the children were off school. We generally drive up to Towcester to see our cousins and visit Wicksteed Park, a charming amusement park set in acres of rolling countryside. Something always happens to disrupt our journey from Suffolk to Northamptonshire. Often it’s roadworks, sometimes a traffic jam, but you can be sure that we’ll reach our destination tired and crabby, at least an hour after we said we’d be there. It was just me and the two youngest this time and as we drove north on the A14 (surely the most boring road in England), we were in high spirits. The sun was sinking in the sky, feathery pink clouds enticingl...