The most mature of the fruits of my loins knows the second (and the first) verse of Our National Anthem. I’ve just watched him singing it this morning at school.
AND HE HAD HIS HAND ON THE GENERAL AREA OF HIS FRIGGING HEART.
Also, his jeans were falling down just a tiny bit, because I forgot to get him to do the bounce test (do these stay up my love? bounce, bounce yeah, these will be fine) after he put them on and before we left home. Anyhoo, details.
He seems to have learnt it (the national anthem) the traditional way – by his teachers at school – whereas I learnt it because my mother liked a bit of a sing after she had a brandy or two. Or three. That’s when I learnt all my best stuff.