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Here she is, my daughter, being effortlessly beautiful as always.

 

Oh to be young again…

 

The photograph was taken in the back garden** of her French granddad, or ‘papy’ as they are called in France.

 

She’s such a perfect specimen and yet, as I type this, she’s sat on the toilet, giving us a blow-by-blow account of what she’s doing. I won’t fill in the blanks too much, but I would really rather not have a ‘director’s commentary’ if I’m being honest.

 

I could also do without all the grunts.

 

They can be perfect.

 

They can be perfectly vile.

 

Here she just looks perfect.

 

Clothes from the French market.

 

Looks from Mummy.

 

Brains from Mummy.

 

Stick from Daddy.

 

 

*It’s early days, I’m sure we will take many more photographs, but so far this is my favourite.

 

**I use the term ‘back garden’ in its loosest possible sense – ‘vast field’ would be more appropriate. They have land to spare in this glorious country.

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