“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not winding me up?”
“No.”
“When did that happen?”
“Well…my last birthday…” It was sort of an obvious answer…
“Well, that’s thrown me… I thought you were much younger…” Which might explain why he doesn’t seem to believe me when I tell him I’m getting too old to be doing some of the heavy jobs around his place. I suppose I should take it as a compliment… both my sons found my age a bit of a shock. Granted, this one did know how old I was last birthday at the time, but one of those memory glitches seems to have erased the knowledge and, instead, he has simply allocated me the age he expects me to be. Oddly enough, it was the same principle as missing typos in the script I was proofreading because I know what should be there and assume that I…
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