Continuing our series of author storyblogs about misunderstandings*, we have a charming post from none other than M L Welsh. Merry Monday!
‘Tilda
*akin to Archie’s antics in I Don’t Believe It, Archie!
Misunderstandings are a daily occurrence in our house; I’m easily confused, my husband doesn’t really listen to anything anyone is saying and our two sons arguably don’t help by providing a constant backdrop of car/tractor/lorry/digger/drill noises, shouts, squeals and shrieks. Dear reader, it’s a disaster. But by a country mile my favourite misunderstanding has got to be the ‘hol’d’y home’ incident of 2008.
That was the year we took an ill-advised trip to Cornwall. It was not a success. Although we broke the journey into two sections, our elder son Joe felt the eight-hour drive to be too long and made his views on this known by screaming from Dorset until arrival. And it was downhill from there really.
We’d booked a cottage by the sea. ‘How lovely it will be,’ I thought. But Joe took ag’in the house from the start. In fact, he hated it. ‘Joe no wan’ go hol’d’y home,’ he would explain several times each day to my long-suffering friend Victoria, who was staying with us. ‘Joe wan’ go Joe home.’
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