Karma's a bitch
When I was about four I was in Marks & Spencers in Cardiff with my mum and my gran, and like all little kids do, I found shopping very, very boring (I'd be so much richer if I still did... shame). I was a bookish kid and still am, so my mum was stopping me from complaining, because granny was dithering for hours over two identical dresses, with a book she'd bought me.

"Bugger this," thinks I, and sits down under a rack of skirts with my book. I carry on reading, mum and granny move a little further on. I got completely engrossed in the book for I don't remember how long, and the next thing I remember is my frantic mum picking me up yelling "found her!" while granny freaks out about me possibly having been abducted by some kiddy-fiddler.

Epilogue: This took place the best part of 17 years ago (I'm 20 now and a little too old to worry about kiddy-fiddlers). My granny still grabs my hand when we cross roads, follows me round shops - and I mean walks literally two feet behind me - and if she can't see me anywhere will go round the shop calling for me until I go 'oh for fuck's sake' and wave to her. If I do get to go shopping on my own she spends the entire time I'm gone asking whoever she's with if I'll be OK and shouldn't they phone me to check I'm not dead. I'm obviously still paying for freaking my mum out like that. And because I pressed the emergency stop on the escalators in BHS the same day.
( Maladicta, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 21:27, Reply)